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AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN 


As  Ye  Have  Sown 


DOLF    WYLLARDE 


AUTHOR  OF 


"The  Story  of  Eden," 
"The  Rat  Trap," 
"  Captain  Amyas," 
etc. 


JOHN    LANE    COMPANY 
NEW  YORK       ....       MCMVII 


All  rights  reserved 


FOR  THE  SAFETY  OF  THE  PUBLIC. 


I  think  it  only  fair  to  state  that  the  names  in  the  book  are 
pronounced  in  the  manner  appended : — 


Blais  is  pronounced 

Blais  Heron  „ 

Queensleigh  „ 

Lexiter  „ 

Harbinger  „ 

D'Aulnoy  „ 

Windersley  ,, 

Lowndes  ,, 


Blay. 

Blay  Hearn. 

Quinsleigh. 

Lessiter. 

Habbinger. 

Dawny. 

Winciiley. 

Lowns  (ow  as  in  cow). 


The  Duke  of  London  pronounced  his  name  exactly  as  it  is 
spelt,  which  shows  what  an  unfashionable  person  he  was,  and 
that  his  title  cannot  have  been  very  old, — because,  of  course, 
the  older  your  family  the  more  corrupted  it  has  become. 

And  all  the  rest  of  the  characters,  particularly  the  Middle 
Class  people,  wrote  and  said  their  names  as  if  they  were  one 
and  the  same  thing.  I  do  not  except  Vaughan,  because  that 
word  is  so  well  known  to  be  Fawn  that  it  is  no  stumbling- 
block  to  anybody. 


2138999 


AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 


CHAPTER  L 

"  The  King  gave  a  title  as  guerdon 

To  the  Knight  who  the  tourney  won  ; 
Shall  a  man  pass  personal  valour 
With  a  name  to  his  eldest  son  ? 
Let  us  go  back  to  our  manhood, 

And  forget  what  the  King  has  done  ! ' ' 

The  Inheritance. 

"  Honour,"  said  the  Duke  of  London,  without  intending  to 
be  epigrammatic,  ''  consists  nowadays  in  not  cheating  at  cards ! 
When  you  come  to  think  of  it,  there  is  nothing  dishonour- 
able that  a  man  may  not  do  except  that.  Oh,  and  Hes — I 
forgot.     None  of  us  care  to  be  caught  lying !  " 

"  Except  in  the  Divorce  Court !  "  said  Lord  Lowndes  drily. 

"  One  may  always  lie  for  a  woman,"  responded  the  Duke 
with  perfect  seriousness.  "  But  do  think  a  moment — I  may 
covet  (and  obtain!)  my  neighbour's  wife,  or  stick  you  with 
a  horse — " 

("  You  couldn't !  "  said  Lord  Lowndes  politely.  "  My  dear 
Pic,  I  know  a  horse  so  much  better  than  you  do,  even  with 
your  coachman  to  prompt  you !  ") 

"  Or  defraud  you  on  the  Stock  Exchange  and  make  my 
profit  on  your  loss.  So  long  as  it  is  business  I  am  still  a 
gentleman.  But  to  cheat  at  cards  is  unpermissible,  some- 
how. Odd,  ain't  it?  There  is  no  other  shabby  trick  one 
may  not  play !  " 

"  There  is  Lexiter,  now,"  said  Lord  Lowndes  contempla- 
tively.    "  I  mean  Caryl,  of  course, — " 

"  All  the  Lexiters  are  bad  lots !  "  said  the  Duke  amicably. 
"  What  a  good  thing  he  won't  come  into  the  title !     Loftus 


2  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

looks  like  a  linen  draper  with  a  City  knighthood,  but  he  is 
a  dam'  good  fellow." 

"  The  father  is  a  Queensleigh,  though.  Caryl  is  like  them. 
Have  you  ever  seen  Caryl  put  his  head  in  the  air  and  say 
'  I  am  a  Queensleigh?'  It's  so  true  it's  really  ill-bred. 
What  I  was  goin'  to  say  when  you  interrupted  me " 

"  I  shall  interrupt  you  again  if  you  drop  your  g's !  "  said 
the  Duke  brutally.  "  You  shouldn't  be  horsey,  Lowndes — 
it's  your  one  affectation !  " 

"  What  I  was  going  to  say  when  you  very  rudely  inter- 
rupted !  "  said  Lord  Lowndes  ferociously,  "  was  that  Caryl 
plays  bridge  as  questionably  as  a  woman.  I  know  that 
assertion  is  actionable,  but,  upon  my  word,  I  should  be  sorry 
to  sit  down  with  him  at  the  Turf  to  a  bridge  party !  It's 
enough  to  make  old  Lady  Queensleigh  turn  in  her  grave." 

"  Dear  old  soul !  Do  you  remember  her  appetite,  and 
the  way  she  mingled  texts  with  her  dinner  conversation? 
Good  Lord !  how  that  woman  ate !  I  took  her  down  once 
at  Lavington  House,  and  she  screamed  sermons  at  me 
between  the  courses  for  two  mortal  hours!  We  used  to 
endure  endless  dinners  in  those  days — the  King  never  did 
us  a  greater  service  than  when  he  cut  them  short." 

"  For  all  her  Calvinism,  she  never  educated  the  Old  Adam 
out  of  her  sons !  "  said  Lord  Lowndes  positively.  "  Caryl  is 
a  scoundrel — and  goes  to  church.  I  could  forgive  him  his 
hypocrisy  if  he  did  not  believe  in  himself." 

"Tell  me — "  the  Duke  turned  his  fine  face  interestedly  to 
his  friend,  and  tried  to  raise  himself  from  his  recumbent 
position,  whereby  a  spasm  of  pain  contracted  his  muscles. — 
"  Damn  this  rheumatism !  It's  a  family  failing. — Tell  me 
about  Lexiter.  Is  he  going  to  marry  Mornington's 
daughter  ?  " 

Lord  Lowndes  took  the  cigarette  end  daintily  from  the 
amber  holder,  fitted  a  plug  of  cotton  wool  and  a  fresh 
cigarette,  and  lit  it  before  he  spoke.  Even  then  he  did  not 
look  at  the  Duke. 

"  Lady  Vera  evidently  wishes  her  to  do  so — for  somewhat 
obvious  reasons,"  he  remarked.  "  I  doubt  whether  it  has 
dawned  on  the  girl  as  yet." 

"  Or  on  Momington  ?  " 

"  You  forget  that  she  is  rather  less  Mornington's  daughter 
than  Lady  Vera's.     I  have  always  speculated  as  to  who  was 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  3 

her  father,  but  Lady  Vera  has  done  a  very  clever  thing — 
she  has  made  her  world  forget,  if  not  her  husband.  I  doubt 
if  anyone  but  you  and  I  remember  that  there  is  anything 
wrong  in  that  household — out  of  the  ordinary.  Of  course 
if  a  woman  of  the  Vera  Blais  type  marries  a  man  who  has 
made  his  money,  there  is  bound  to  be  something  wrong — 
and  the  poor  devil  of  a  husband  knows  where  the  shoe 
pinches ! " 

"  She  is  one  of  the  most  objectionable  women  I  ever 
knew !  "  said  the  Duke  frankly.  "  I  hate  her.  And  Morn- 
ington  was  a  nice  fellow,  wasn't  he,  years  ago  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  didn't  know  that  anyone  had  got  beyond 
his  overcoat!  I  know  Mornington's  overcoat,  because  it 
sometimes  hangs  next  mine  at  the  Club,  but  I'm  damned  if 
I  know  any  more  of  the  man.  He  is  like  a  bank  safe  with 
all  his  money  and  securities  locked  up  inside.  I  doubt  if  there 
is  anything  else  there — now." 

"  There  was  a  good  deal  more — on  one  occasion  at  least," 
said  the  Duke  slowly,  and  the  two  wrinkles,  one  of  pain  and 
one  of  thought,  frowned  above  his  kindly  eyes  as  he  turned 
again  in  his  chair.  "  He  chose  to  show  me  his  inner  man 
once.     It  was  an  experience  I  have  never  forgotten." 

"  Most  people  know  no  more  of  him  than  that  he  made 
two  or  three  millions  over  an  ingenious  cart-wheel  invented 
by  his  father.  I  believe  he  patented  it  in  the  States  and 
sold  it  in  England.  They  called  him  the  Wheelwright  for 
years  !     How  did  you  get  beyond  his  spokes  ?  " 

"  I  have  the  misfortune  to  be  a  distant  relation  of  Lady 
Vera's,  and  he  came  to  me  when  the  crash  took  place  and 
he  knew  the  child  was  not  his,  and  laid  the  case  before  me." 

"  The  Deuce  he  did  !  "  Lord  Lowndes  turned  round  from 
his  position  on  the  hearthrug  and  stared  under  bushy  brows 
at  his  friend.  "  We  have  been  intimate  for  nearly  fifty  years. 
Pic,  and  yet  every  now  and  then  you  still  surprise  me  by 
knowing  the  secret  of  somebody's  skeleton  closet  which  you 
have  not  revealed!  I  never  heard  that  about  Mornington 
coming  to  you,  before." 

"  When  a  confidence  is  out  of  date  it  is  no  longer  confi- 
dential," remarked  the  Duke  drily.  "Mornington's  daughter 
is  an  established  fact  in  Mornington's  house,  and  no  one  will 
question  her  position  now,  or  her  inheritance  of  his  millions." 

"  There  was  a  question  at  the  time  ?  " 

T* 


4  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

"  He  was  very  nearly  mad.  Perhaps  the  Natural  Man 
is  a  bit  of  a  maniac,  and  Mornington  was  very  much  the 
Natural  Man  as  he  raved  to  me.  He  wanted  to  turn  Lady 
Vera  out  of  doors — upon  my  word  I  don't  know  that  she 
didn't  deserve  it!  He  had  married  her  from  that  gambling 
hell  of  a  house  at  Ragby,  and  had  not  only  taken  her  penniless, 
but  had  cleared  Lord  Ragby's  racing  debts,  about  ;^5o,ooo. 
In  return  she  showed  him  pretty  plainly  in  private  life  (I 
believe  she  was  civil  in  public)  that  she  looked  upon  him  as 
belonging  to  a  very  much  lower  strata  of  society  than  her- 
self.    He  was  of  the  Middle  Classes,  and  she  was  a  Blais." 

"  Yet  you  smoothed  over  the  diflSculty ! "  said  Lord 
Lowndes,  with  some  faint  curiosity. 

James  Piccadilly,  5th  Duke  of  London,  looked  away  from 
his  companion  for  a  minute  before  he  answered — ^looked 
across  the  rich  sombre  room  with  its  suggestion  of  invalidism 
in  the  padded  reclining  chairs,  the  book-rests  and  adaptable 
lamps,  all  the  little  contrivances  for  easing  the  pain  of  move- 
ment that  even  his  wealth  could  not  save  him  from,  though 
it  might  mitigate  it.  Over  his  face,  which  had  a  look  of 
patient  endurance  that  ennobled  it  as  a  long  pedigree  could 
never  do,  there  fell  an  expression  of  the  weariest  cynicism 
— too  hopeless  to  be  hard,  and  too  experienced  to  be  unkind. 

"  One  always  smoothes  over  these  things.  They  are  always 
being  done,  and  we  can't  help  them,  so  we  keep  silence  for 
the  sake  of  outward  decency.  There  is  hardly  one  of  our  big 
houses  that  has  kept  its  line  really  in  a  straight  descent,  if 
you  come  to  think  of  what  you  know.  Now  and  then  a 
scandal  ends  in  the  Divorce  Court,  but  in  ninety-nine  cases 
out  of  a  hundred,  the  man  holds  his  tongue  for  the  sake  of 
his  name  and  position.     See  what  I  mean  ?  " 

"I  suppose  so.     It  has  become  a  tradition  amongst  us." 

"I  told  Mornington  he  had  himself  to  consider  as  well  as 
the  child.  It  would  have  been  humiliating  for  him,  as  well 
as  for  her,  to  prove  that  he  had  been  so  fooled." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  He  said  a  very  curious  thing,"  said  the  Duke,  his  face 
lighting  with  a  trace  of  reminiscence.  "  He  had  been  shak- 
ing— literally  shaking — with  his  passion,  and  suddenly  he 
calmed  down  as  if  someone  had  turned  him  into  stone  He 
regained  his  self-control  all  at  once,  and  stood  looking  at 
me  with  his  hands  gripping  the  back  of  a  chair  as  though 


AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN.  5 

he  held  himself  within  bounds  again.  And  he  said  (I  have 
never  forgotten  it),  '  I  see  that  you  are  looking  at  it  from  a 
point  of  view  which  is  not  native  to  me.  I  belong  to  the 
Middle  Class,  as  my  wife  has  been  at  some  pains  to  show 
me  by  more  subtle  means  than  speech.  Having  married  a 
woman  of  rank,  it  seems  it  is  incumbent  on  me  to  behave 
as  in  her  class  of  life.  I  will  endeavour  to  adopt  her 
standard,  and  yours,  from  henceforth!'  He  never  said  any 
more  about  it,  and  I  have  never  had  an  intimate  word  from 
him  from  that  day  to  this.     Odd,  ain't  it?" 

"Yet  he  acknowledged  the  child!"  said  Lord  Lowndes 
thoughtfully.     "Tacitly,   at  least." 

"  I  believe  there  was  a  fresh  row  about  that,  though  I 
only  heard  it  at  second  hand.  You  remember  her  being 
put  into  her  godmother's  care  when  she  was  three  years 
old?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  They  said  she  was  so  delicate  she  could  not 
be  reared  in  England,  and  as  Lady  Helen  lived  in  Madeira 
it  was  the  most  natural  course  to  part  her  from  her  mother 
and  have  her  brought  up  abroad.  Then  Lady  Vera's  friends 
tried  to  get  up  a  little  sympathy  for  her,  as  a  fond  mother 
deprived  of  her  offspring !  But  some  people  said  that  it  was 
simply  that  she  did  not  mean  to  be  bothered  by  a  growing 
girl — a  boy  she  could  have  packed  off  to  school.  They 
might  have  made  up  a  better  story  than  the  one  of  delicacy, 
anyway." 

"Well,  they  had  to  say  something!  "  said  the  Duke  drily. 
"  I  believe  the  facts  are  these.  Lady  Violet  has  a  notorious 
temper " 

"My  dear  Pic,  no  one  who  has  looked  at  her  could  doubt 
it!  She  is  Hell  on  fire  when  anyone  has  put  her  out.  And 
her  way  of  working  it  off  is  to  vent  it  on  the  nearest  victim 
she  finds.  I've  heard  her  speak  to  her  groom  so  that  I 
thought  she  was  going  to  strike  him." 

"  She  can't  keep  her  maids  for  that  reason,  so  they  say. 
And  she  used  to  use  the  child  as  a  safety  valve  when  she 
had  the  poor  thing — by  means  of  her  riding  whip.  How 
Momington  found  out  I  don't  know,  but  it  appears  that  he 
reopened  the  subject  for  that  time  only,  and  warned  her 
that  if  she  laid  one  finger  on  it  again  he  should  send  it  away 
to  Lady  Helen  to  be  brought  up." 

Lord   Lowndes  flung  his   head   up   and   laughed   shortly. 


6  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

"  How  she  must  have  stormed  I  and,  equally  of  course,  she 
could  not  control  herself,  even  for  her  own  advantage." 

"  No.  And  Mornington  always  does  as  he  threatens.  The 
child  was  sent  away,  and  has  been  away  ever  since,  as  far 
as  I  know." 

"  Her  mother  used  to  go  and  see  her  when  she  was  at 
school  in  Paris,"  remarked  Lord  Lowndes.  "  Their  ac- 
quaintance seems  to  have  been  more  polite  than  intimate, 
and  merely  saved  their  being  complete  strangers.  My  in- 
formant is  Lady  Harbinger  !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  was  finished  at  the  same  school  as  Lady 
Vera's  daughter,  wasn't  she?  They  are  great  friends,  I 
believe.  Cecily  Chilcote  must  be  amongst  the  few  people 
who  were  rather  glad  to  hear  of  Lady  Helen's  death,  though 
they  were  relatives  of  hers — I  don't  believe  Miss  Mornington 
would  ever  have  come  home  otherwise." 

"  I  saw  them  both  the  other  night  at  the  Haversham  party. 
It  was  Miss  Momington's  first  meeting  with  the  Harbinger's 
this  season,  I  think.     They  are  only  just  back  from  Nice." 

"Harbinger's  mother  has  been  dying,  or  getting  well,  or 
something,  don't  you  know.  Mornington's  daughter  was 
presented  at  the  first  Court,  I  heard,  but  I  have  not  seen  her 
yet.  This  last  attack  of  mine  has  kept  me  laid  up  for  weeks. 
What  is  she  like?" 

"Quite  the  handsomest  debutante  this  season — if  one  can 
call  her  a  debutante.  She  has  the  appearance  of  a  mature 
woman,  though  she  is  only  four-and-twenty,  I  suppose." 

"Is  she  like  Lady  Vera?" 

"  Well,  yes,  and  no.  She  has  not  that  tawny  brilliance  that 
was  supposed  to  be  so  wonderful  in  Lady  Vera.  I  don't 
admire  it  myself,  it  is  so  hard.  The  girl — her  name  is 
Patricia,  by  the  way — is  a  shade  darker  in  every  way,  and 
it  seems  to  give  her  a  depth  and  weight  her  mother  has 
not." 

"When  she  was  young.  Vera  Blais  was  really  beautiful, 
however  much  one  might  dislike  her  expression." 

"  So  is  the  daughter.  Her  figure  and  her  carriage  have 
beaten  Lady  Vera's,  which  can't  be  a  pleasant  knowledge 
for  such  a  pass6e  woman.  She  is  tall,  and  carries  herself 
perfectly — I  must  own  there's  the  look  of  the  thoroughbred 
in  her,  but  she  may  not  furnish  as  she  promises." 

"Ring  the  bell,  please,"  said  the  Duke,  with  a  look  of 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  7 

pained  reproach.  "  I  want  a  whiskey  and  soda.  Your 
slang  is  an  offence  in  my  nostrils,  and  I  don't  care  to  smell 
the  stables  in  my  sitting-room !  " 

"  Anyway,"  said  Lord  LoAvndes,  with  a  grin  of  malice  as 
he  pressed  the  bell,  "it's  more  understandable  than  your 
abominable  talk  of  yachts  and  motors ! " 

The  Duke  sighed.  "  That  day  is  over  anyhow,"  he  said, 
and  the  patient  nobility  shadowed  his  face  again.  "  I  can't 
do  any  of  the  things  for  which  I  care — now.  Sometimes  I 
think  the  animal  world  is  really  better  civilised  than  we  are ! 
When  an  old  buck  can  fight  no  longer  the  younger  beasts 
set  on  him  and  kill  him — ^he's  no  use,  and  they  mercifully 
put  an  end  to  his  existence,  instead  of  letting  him  mope  by 
himself,  and  feel  his  failing  powers. — Oh,  Maunders,  bring 
me  a  whiskey  and  soda,  please." 

Lord  Lowndes  was  suffering  the  great  discomfort  of  having 
made  a  tactless  speech,  and  regretting  that  physical  restric- 
tions prevented  his  kicking  himself.  He  looked  upon 
Maunders  as  an  angel  of  rescue  for  the  first  time,  having 
hitherto  regarded  him  as  nothing  but  an  excellent  servant. 
There  was,  in  fact,  nothing  very  angelic  about  Maunders's 
appearance,  for  he  was  a  small,  neat  man  with  a  close-lipped 
face  and  sprightly  eyes  that  he  was  obliged  to  keep  cast 
down  to  preserve  the  demureness  of  domestic  service. 

"  I'll  have  a  whiskey,  too,  Maunders !  "  said  Lord  Lowndes, 
feeling  that  his  relief  needed  material  expression.  He  looked 
at  Maunders  affectionately,  and  almost  expected  to  see  the 
wings  sprouting  from  his  decorous  shoulders.  "  The  Duke 
has  not  asked  me — but  I  will,  all  the  same." 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon !  "  said  the  Duke,  his  instinctive 
courtesy  overcoming  the  challenged  retort.  "  Two  glasses 
then.  Maunders. — It's  very  bad  for  you  to  drink  between 
meals,  with  your  gout,  Lowndes !  " 

"  It's  worse  for  you  with  your  rheumatism !  I'm  sorry  for 
your  doctor — what's  the  use  of  his  putting  you  on  diet?" 

"If  you  never  did  anything  that  was  bad  for  you,"  said 
the  Duke  pleadingly,  "  your  life  would  end  by  being  bad 
for  you  !     What  is  it.  Maunders  ?  " 

"  Shall  I  draw  the  curtains,  your  Grace  ?  " 

"No — no.  Leave  them.  I  like  to  see  the  outside  world, 
even  when  I  am  cut  off  from  it ! " 

"Yes,    your    Grace!"    said    Maunders,    with    the   air   of 


8  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

humouring  the  caprices  of  a  spoilt  child,  and  slipped  out 
of  the  room  as  neatly  as  he  had  slipped  in. 

"  Maunders,"  said  Lord  Lowndes,  who  was  still  grateful, 
"  is  an  excellent  servant." 

"Yes,  ain't  he?  I've  had  him  twenty-five  years,  you  see, 
and  trained  him.     He  was  awful  when  he  came — oh,  awful !  " 

"  Where  did  he  come  from  ?  " 

"I  can't  imagine,  don't  you  know.  Some  little  public 
house,  I  should  think.  He  twisted  up  the  table  napkins 
into  dreadful  shapes,  and  made  the  butter  into  cocks  and 
hens !  (He  came  to  me  as  a  butler  first,  when  I  was  renting 
Queensleigh's  place  in  Hampshire.)  I  said,  'Maunders,  do 
please  remember  that  this  is  not  a  small  country  inn ! '  And 
then  he  cried." 

"  Cried !  " 

"  Yes — ain't  it  awkward  ?  He  always  goes  into  a  comer 
and  cries  if  I  scold  him." 

"  I  believe  he  is  really  very  much  attached  to  you !  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  good  creature,  no  servant  is  attached  to 
anyone — unless  it's  the  cook.  He  is  a  tip-receiving  animal; 
he  has  no  finer  feelings  that  cannot  be  bought.  All  the  men 
servants  cry  when  I  speak  to  them  about  anything.  The 
butler  cries,  and  the  footman  sniffs.  And  I  never  damn 
them  like  most  fellows  do.  I  simply  speak  to  them  quite 
gently  and  quietly !  " 

"  Yes,  and  you  contrive  to  make  them  feel  worms — much 
more  so  than  if  you  swore !  "  said  Lord  Lowndes,  so  very 
much  amused  that  every  line  of  his  face  seemed  suggesting 
a  smile.     "  What  was  Maunders's  last  little  crime  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  forget.  It  was  something  he  had  neglected  or 
didn't  understand  I  wanted  him  to  do.  I  said,  'I  know  what 
it  is.  Maunders — you  are  becoming  so  dissipated '  (all  servants 
are,  don't  you  know !)  '  that  it  is  softening  your  brain.  You 
simply  carit  understand  an  order  now — you  are  growing 
senile ! ' " 

"  No  wonder  he  wept !  "  said  Lord  Lowndes,  with  an  ex- 
plosion of  mirth.  "He  must  have  been  frightened  as  to 
which  was  the  madder — you  or  he." 

The  Duke  opened  his  mouth  to  speak  just  as  Maunders 
opened  the  door  with  the  whiskey.  He  motioned  to  the  table 
beside  him,  and  the  man  placed  it  there  with  the  deft- 
handedness  of  the  expert.     There  was  no  jar  in  setting  down 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  9 

the  tray — no  spilling  of  the  lithia  water.  He  moved  with 
the  silent  precision  of  an  automaton. 

"I'll  engage  Maunders  as  soon  as  you  want  to  get  rid  of 
him :  "  said  Lord  Lowndes  drily,  as  the  valet  disappeared. 
"I  think  I  can  put  up  with  his  softening  of  the  brain.  It 
does  not  seem  to  have  aflfected  his  hands  !  " 

"  He  never  talks,"  remarked  the  Duke,  with  tardy  acknow- 
ledgment. "  I  hear  that  the  other  servants  complain  that 
they  can  get  nothing  out  of  him.  Lowndes,  if  you  are  not 
in  a  hurt}'  I'll  play  you  a  game  of  backgammon  over  the 
whiskey." 

"  You  always  beat  me  at  backgammon,"  said  Lord  Lowndes 
amicably .  "  That's  why  you  like  it.  Now  if  you  stuck  to 
chess  I  could  give  you  nine  lbs.  and  win  hands  down !  Chess 
is  the  game  of  my  family.  They  play  it  in  Parliament  and 
private  life." 

"  I  can't  play  chess,"  said  the  Duke.  "  And  I'm  too  old 
to  learn  now.  Pull  up  that  table — shall  we  ring  for 
Maunders  ?  " 

"  No — nonsense !  I  know  where  the  backgammon  board 
is  at  least.     What's  the  matter  with  the  whiskey  ?  " 

The  Duke  was  making  grimaces.  "  Maunders  will  mix 
it  as  if  he  thought  I  wanted  to  get  drunk !  And  I'm  so 
thirsty.     Fill  up  that  glass  to  the  brim  with  water,  please." 

"  Now  you  are  grumbling !  If  you  had  stuck  to  your  diet, 
Pic,  we  should  have  had  none  of  this  nonsense !  I  told  you, 
you  oughtn't  to  drink  whiskey  between  meals.  Is  that  all 
right,  my  dear  fellow  ?  " 

With  one  of  the  charming,  graceful  impulses  which  were 
at  least  as  peculiar  to  his  family  as  the  playing  of  chess,  he 
refilled  the  Duke's  glass,  placed  the  backgammon  board, 
and  shifted  the  pillows  a  little  for  his  friend's  aching  limbs. 
And  if  he  were  not  as  tender  as  the  proverbial  woman,  he 
was  at  least  as  skilful  as  that  much  better  thing  in  illness — 
a  male  nurse. 

Half  an  hour  later  Maunders,  slipping  in  to  bring  the 
evening  papers,  found  two  grey-headed  gentlemen  absorbed 
in  their  game.  The  Duke  had  just  taken  Lord  Lowndes  up, 
and  the  latter  was  rattling  the  dice  with  the  fell  determination 
to  retaliate  next  turn. 


lO 


CHAPTER  II. 

'*  The  Men  had  the  city  to  squander, 
The  joy  of  the  field  and  the  tent  ; 
And  nobody  knew  but  the  Women 
What  the  battle  really  meant. ' ' 

The  Battle  of  the  New  Age. 

The  little  maid  who  answered  Mrs.  Leroy's  ring  at  the  door 
was  so  plainly  a  "  temporary "  in  place  of  Mrs.  Rodney's 
usual  neat  servants,  that  the  visitor  raised  her  eyebrows 
mentally,  and  wished  her  friend  well  through  the  nuisance  of 
hunting  for  new  domestics.  Mrs.  Leroy  was  five  feet  eight, 
and  the  little  niaid  was  five  feet  nothing;  therefore  their 
progress  down  the  passage  to  the  drawing-room  was  not  with- 
out an  element  of  humour,  and  as  the  door  was  opened,  and 
she  heard  herself  announced  as  "  Mrs.  Erard !  "  Fate  Leroy 
met  her  hostess's  eyes  over  the  child's  head  before  they 
could  reach  each  other,  and  they  both  laughed. 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you !  "  Mrs.  Rodney  said  simply,  and 
the  words  were  the  best  kind  of  welcome.  "  And  I  must 
own,"  she  added  plaintively,  "that  it  is  not  all  for  your  own 
sweet  sake,  though  you  are  as  welcome  as  flowers  in  May !  " 

"  You  are  going  to  ask  me  if  I  can  tell  you  of  a  maid !  " 
Fate  laughed,  as  she  threaded  her  way  carefully  past  the 
tea-table  to  shake  hands  with  two  other  women  who  were 
already  drinking  tea.  "Well,  I  cannot,  personally;  but  I 
have  heard  of  one.  The  Durham  girls  told  me  of  her  only 
last  week,  and  they  would  have  taken  her  themselves,  only 
they  wanted  a  cook — not  a  general." 

"  You  are  an  angel !  I  will  go  and  see  the  Durhams  to- 
morrow.    Isn't  that  a  dreadful  being  that  let  you  in  ?  " 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  ii 

"  She  looks  rather  awful.     Where  did  you  find  her?  " 

"  Oh,  through  the  office.  She  is  a  well-meaning  little 
girl,  but  of  course  she  can  only  do  housework,  and  I  am 
rather  tired  of  the  cooking." 

She  did  not  look  tired,  save  for  a  faint  shadow  under  her 
eyes.  Fate  Leroy  glanced  quickly  at  her,  and  a  passing 
wonder  flitted  through  her  mind  at  the  diversity  of  gifts, 
and  the  endurance,  of  the  woman  who  runs  a  household  on 
very  limited  means.  It  is  a  minor  heroism,  unrecorded 
save  in  the  tradition  of  the  great  Middle  Class  which  breeds 
wives  for  men  who  work,  and  trains  them  with  resources 
to  meet  the  emergencies  of  the  backwoods  or  the  court.  The 
Rodneys  kept  two  servants — a  reliable  nurse  for  the  two 
small  children,  and  a  "  general,"  whose  deficiencies  Marion 
Rodney  supplied — occasionally,  as  in  the  present  instance, 
taking  her  place  almost  entirely.  She  had  probably  cooked 
and  laid  the  luncheon,  seen  the  little  maid  wash  up,  set  her 
drawing-room  to  rights,  got  her  own  tea,  and  was  now  sitting, 
very  perfectly  dressed,  talking  to  her  visitors  as  if  a  woman's 
usual  tasks  included  those  of  maid  and  mistress  too. 

"  I  saw  you  this  morning  passing  the  Badminton  ground, 
Mrs.  Leroy,"  said  one  of  the  other  visitors,  to  Fate, — a  small, 
fair  girl,  who  looked  decidedly  unmatronly,  though  she  had 
been  married  some  five  or  six  years.  "  Have  you  joined  yet  ? 
They  say  it  is  such  good  exercise — everyone  impressed  it  on 
me  until  I  felt  I  would  rather  die  than  play !  Don't  you  feel 
injured  when  people  urge  you  to  be  healthy?  It  is  as  bad 
as  suggesting  that  you  should  have  a  bath  every  day !  The 
world  might  take  one's  cleanliness  inside  and  out  for  granted, 
I  think.  I  felt  I  should  dislike  Badminton  as  much  as  I 
used  to  do  rice  pudding  and  boiled  mutton,  but  we  are  very 
fond  of  the  game  now." 

"  I  have  joined,  but  have  not  been  down  to  the  nets  yet," 
Fate  answered.  "My  husband  is  so  fond  of  cycling  that  he 
cannot  bear  giving  it  up  for  anything  else — and  he  has  not 
much  time.  When  he  gets  down  from  town  we  have  tea  and 
then  start  off"  at  once.  It  is  very  bad  for  our  digestions,  I 
feel  sure,  but  it  seems  so  sinful  to  waste  fresh  air,  on  his 
account." 

"  I  often  think  one  has  to  work  very  hard  to  be  allowed 
very  little  of  the  man  one  marries  !  "  said  the  fourth  woman 
thoughtfully.     She  was  a  Mrs.  Carr,  and  her  husband  was  a 


12  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

solicitor.  "The  City,  or  some  part  of  town,  swallows  him 
up  all  day,  and  when  he  does  return  time  is  so  precious  that 
one  has  hardly  a  moment  to  speak  to  him !  I  am  positively 
afraid  of  having  a  holiday — it  makes  me  so  discontented  for 
weeks  afterwards.     And  George  feels  the  same." 

The  fair,  small  woman — Mrs.  Hilliard — took  up  the  wail 
plaintively.  "  I  always  want  to  thump  silly  people  who  talk 
about  husbands  and  wives  getting  tired  of  each  other — I  only 
wish  we  had  a  chance !  I  was  ashamed  of  myself  last  year 
in  Devonshire — all  the  people  took  us  for  a  honeymoon 
couple  of  the  old  type!  Disgraceful,  wasn't  it?  And  we've 
been  married  six  years !  How  did  you  enjoy  your  holiday, 
Mrs.  Leroy?  I  thought  it  was  so  sensible  of  you  to  go  in 
June!     It  is  such  a  lovely  month  in  the  country." 

"  It  was  sheer  necessity  rather  than  brilliance  of  selection 
that  took  us  away  then,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  with  her  soft 
laugh.  "The  men  above  my  husband  are  both  objectionable 
people  who  take  August  and  July  as  a  matter  of  course — and 
they  cannot,  two  of  them,  be  away  at  the  same  time.  I  pray 
annually  for  their  deaths,  but  Providence  has  not  seen  their 
fitness  for  Heaven  as  yet." 

"  It  never  does,  does  it?"  said  Mrs.  Carr,  sympathetically. 
"  George  has  an  uncle  whose  ill-health  we  always  drink  on 
his  birthday,  and  we  have  quite  decided  that  the  first  of 
April  shall  be  the  anniversary  of  his  death — but  he  is  eighty- 
five,  and  still  flourishes  on  an  income  for  which  we  pine  !  " 
Her  beautiful  dark  eyes  met  Mrs.  Leroy's  across  the  room, 
and  they  both  laughed.  In  reality,  Mrs.  Carr  would  not 
have  wished  the  death  of  anything  but  an  eating-moth — and 
that  only  on  account  of  her  household  gear.  "  At  any  rate, 
you  had  beautiful  weather,"  she  remarked.  "  It  was  swelter- 
ing, as  the  newspapers  say,  in  Sunnington." 

"  And  one  feels  it  so  in  a  small  house !  Eldred  was  so 
delirious  with  the  sea  that  I  hated  having  to  come  home. 
We  had  an  excellent  time,  though — the  very  first  thing  we 
did  was  to  lose  my  luggage,  and  my  landlady  had  to  supply 
me  with  everything  for  the  night.  She  was  a  short,  fat 
woman,  and  the  nightdress  reached  just  below  my  knees — 
and — and  my  husband  wanted  me  to  sleep  in  his  great  coat ! " 
(The  tears  were  standing  in  her  clear  eyes  now  from  the 
laughter  of  the  recollection.)  "  She  was  a  dear  good  soul  all 
the  same.    She  looked  at  me  comprehensively,  and  then  she 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  13 

went  away   and  brought  me   a   hand-glass   all  of   her   own 
accord ! " 

"  It  is  plain  what  she  thought  of  you,  Fate !  "  said  Mrs. 
Rodney  drily,  with  an  appreciative  glance  at  her  friend's 
figure. 

Fate  Leroy  possessed  the  quality  of  being  the  point  of 
sight  to  which  all  perspective  lines  seemed  drawn  in  any 
community.  She  was  not  really  so  handsome  as  Mrs.  Carr 
— her  figure  was  no  better  than  Mrs.  Rodney's — she  had  not 
the  actual  girlish  prettiness  of  Mrs.  Hilliard ;  but  for  all  that, 
she  was  the  centre  of  the  group,  and  the  eyes  of  all  the 
others  rested  upon  her.  A  tall,  fair  Englishwoman,  whose 
soul  was  as  clean  as  her  underlinen  and  whose  body  was  as 
healthy  as  her  pliant  mind.  No  man  ever  called  her  a  pretty 
woman  to  his  neighbour — but  she  never  failed  to  create  her 
impression  as  she  wished  it. 

"  I  do  call  it  so  hard !  '  she  said  in  whimsical  complaint. 
"  When  people  look  at  me  they  never  think  of  the  virtuous 
woman,  whose  price  is  above  rubies,  as  they  should — they 
go  away  and  fetch  looking-glasses !  " 

"  It's  their  way  of  paying  a  compliment,  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Rodney  soothingly.  "  Now  don't  look  at  the  clock,  Fate — 
the  train  is  really  not  due  yet !  " 

"  I  always  know  when  it  is  getting  near  five  o'clock  by  Mrs. 
Leroy's  face  ! "  said  Mrs.  Hilliard  teasingly.  "  She  cannot 
keep  her  eyes  off  the  clock,  and  becomes  every  minute  more 
anxious !  Does  anything  ever  prevent  your  meeting  your 
husband's  train,    Mrs.   Leroy?" 

"  He  would  think  that  the  house  was  burnt  down  and  my 
charred  ashes  amongst  the  ruins,  if  I  did  not ! "  said  Fate 
rising,  with  a  happy  little  smile  that  made  her  soft  face 
dimple.  For  such  a  tall  woman,  and  one  so  perfectly  self- 
possessed,  she  had  a  singularly  young  appearance  when 
strictly  criticised — there  was  not  a  hard  angle  in  her  features, 
which  were  really  rather  irregular,  and  if  her  grey  eyes  were 
passionless  to  the  world  at  large,  her  lips  were  crimson  and 
cleft  enough  to  make  a  man's  heart  beat  quicker — a  fact  of 
which  she  did  not  even  seem  to  be  aware.  The  other  women 
stood  round  her  to  say  good-bye,  as  if  she  were  something 
more  to  them  than  merely  popular,  and  Fate,  catching  sight 
of  the  group  in  a  long  glass,  became  suddenly  conscious, 
without  any  vanity,  that  there  were  enough  good  looks  among 


14  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

them  to  make  any  nation  proud  of  its  women — the  Middle 
Class  women  whose  faces  are  never  reproduced  at  a  tilted 
angle  in  cheap  illustrated  papers  or  magazines. 

"  Well,  you  have  done  your  going  away  for  this  year  any- 
how, and  I  am  selfishly  glad !  "  said  Mrs.  Rodney,  as  they 
shook  hands — -in  that  particular  circle  they  were  not  addicted 
to  kissing.  "I  am  always  better  pleased  when  I  know  that 
I  can  get  to  you  in  ten  minutes  on  my  bicycle  !  " 

"  Thank  you  !  "  said  Fate  simply. 

"  When  are  you  going  to  Madeira  again,  Mrs.  Leroy  ? " 
said  Mrs.  Milliard,  tantalisingly.     "  I  did  envy  you  that  trip !  " 

"  Oh,  we  are  much  too  poor  to  afford  it  again — if  a  relation 
of  my  husband's  had  not  given  him  the  money  on  condition 
that  he  should  have  at  least  a  few  days  at  sea,  we  should 
never  have  dreamed  of  it."  Mrs.  Leroy  spoke  without  dis- 
content, but  there  was  the  shadow  of  a  sigh  in  her  voice. 
"  Rich  people  do  not  realise  what  a  wonderful  thing  it  is  to 
see  a  foreign  land,"  she  said  quietly.  "  Eldred  and  I  live  on 
the  memory — I  believe  we  have  an  idea  that  we  shall  go  to 
Madeira  when  we  die,  if  we  are  good  and  spend  very  little 
money  here  below  !  " 

"  The  sea  voyage  would  be  worse  than  crossing  the  Styx 
to  me !  "  said  Mrs.  Rodney,  with  a  shudder.  "  Were  you 
very  ill?" 

"  Very !  I  never  came  on  deck — but  somehow  one  forgets 
all  that,  and  remembers  only  the  wonderful  things  one  saw. 
We  met  such  nice  people  too — it  is  strange  that  you  should 
have  mentioned  Madeira,  for  I  heard  only  this  morning  of  a 
girl  I  met  there  and  liked  so  much  that  we  have  corresponded 
ever  since.  She  has  come  back  to  England  to  live  with  her 
own  people,  and  it  is  rather  an  interesting  household  I  think. 
They  are  rolling  in  money,  but — oh,  I  must  go !  I  have 
only  five  minutes !  "  and  Mrs.  Leroy's  flying  skirts  disappeared 
down  the  hall  without  waiting  for  the  temporary  little  maid 
to  show  her  out,  or  heeding  her  friends'  laughter. 

She  slipped  down  the  narrow  strip  of  garden,  closed  the 
gate  behind  her  with  a  click,  and  hurried  along  the  unfinished 
suburban  road,  where  the  dreadful  little  villas  were  ranged 
in  rows,  and  inhabited — many  of  them — by  her  personal 
friends — women  as  gently  bred,  as  courteous,  as  those  she  had 
just  left,  whose  education  directed  their  eager  vitality  to  pant 
a  little  after  a  wider  world  than  Sunnington,  but  whose  cir- 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  15 

cumstances  taught  and  trained  them  to  endurance  by  the  sheer 
necessity  of  making  a  narrow  income  suffice  for  husband  and 
children,  which  absorbed  all  superfluous  energies.  There 
was  a  certain  "  house-pride  "  in  those  modern  women,  in- 
herited from  a  simpler  and  more  domestic  age;  the  rigor- 
ously well-kept  air  of  the  little  houses,  which  at  least 
mitigated  their  hideousness  to  anyone  loving  law  and  order, 
gave  Mrs.  Leroy  a  small  pang  of  sympathy  for  the  decent 
self-respect  it  dumbly  testified.  There  was  hardly  an  income 
in  that  little  road  which  rose  to  over  five  hundred  a  year, 
but  by  a  process  of  selection  she  had  gathered  a  circle  round 
her  which  contained  no  inharmonious  element,  though  some 
in  it  were  worse  and  some  better  off  than  herself.  She  was 
emphatically  a  woman  who  made  her  own  world,  and  from 
knowing  most  of  the  really  rich  people  in  the  popular  suburb 
she  had  quietly  extricated  herself,  finding  that  their  wealth 
had  not  improved  them  to  her  taste.  Having  no  children 
of  her  own,  she  was  rather  better  off  than  her  neighbours  in 
the  road  she  was  just  leaving,  and  her  husband's  salary  of 
seven  hundred  went  far  enough  in  her  hands  to  enable  them 
to  live  in  a  more  desirable  position  and  to  be  credited  with 
at  least  a  thousand  by  people  with  fatter  incomes  who  would 
fain  have  known  her. 

The  train  w^as  not  yet  in  when  Mrs.  Leroy  arrived  on  the 
platform,  and  she  drew  her  quickened  breath  more  easily. 
Her  hurried  walk  from  Mrs.  Rodney's  house  to  the  station 
had  left  her  no  chance  to  notice,  as  she  was  generally  forced 
to  do,  that  her  progress  was  closely  attended  by  masculine 
eyes.  From  her  girlhood — she  was  at  this  time  nearly  thirty 
— Fate  Leroy  had  been  the  inevitable  object  of  street  atten- 
tion, which  had  become  such  a  usual  matter  to  her  mind 
that  she  could  comfortably  ignore  it  save  when  it  became 
intrusive.  Then  her  fair  brown  head  went  a  shade  higher, 
her  grey  eyes  were  like  unto  hard  stone,  and  her  blood 
surged  along  her  veins  in  a  secret  fury  that  her  almost  lifeless 
exterior  never  betrayed.  A  clean  woman,  too  busy  with  her 
own  life  to  be  beguiled  into  wandering  glances,  it  seemed  to 
her  that  the  audacity  of  male  admiration  was  a  species  of 
insult  when  uninvited.  She  had  an  instance,  on  this  occasion, 
and  as  usual  it  fretted  her  to  anger.  A  thick-set  man,  of  an 
age  when  womanhood,  like  wine,  must  be  ripe  to  appeal, 
followed  Mrs.  Leroy's  graceful  figure  up  the  platform,  paused 


i6  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

when  she  paused,  and  suddenly  looked  hard  into  her  face. 
Without  the  least  consciousness  of  expression,  she  slowly 
turned  a  sloping  shoulder  to  him,  and  kept  her  easy  waiting 
attitude,  not  giving  an  inch  of  ground.  But  her  heart  began 
a  more  rapid  beating  than  that  engendered  by  her  quick 
walk,  and  her  breast  rose  and  fell  with  one  long  breath  of 
relief  as  the  curve  of  the  down  train  shot  into  green  distance 
up  the  line.  Behind  her  the  beast  of  prey  also  kept  his 
ground,  leaning  half  an  inch  nearer  to  the  repellent  shoulder, 
until  with  a  swift  movement  Mrs.  Leroy  had  shot  herself 
across  the  intervening  platform  at  the  carriage  doors,  and 
almost  into  the  arms  of  two  men  descending  from  a  first-class 
smoking  compartment,  both  of  whom  raised  their  hats. 

"  Hulloa,  Babs !  I've  brought  Vaughan  down  with  me," 
said  the  first  who  had  jumped  out.  Eldred  Leroy  always 
addressed  his  tall  wife  as  if  she  were  but  lately  out  of  short 
frocks.  She  slipped  her  hand  into  his  arm,  and  turned,  still 
panting  a  little,  to  meet  the  keen  eyes  of  the  taller  man. 

"  How  are  you,  Gerald  ?  "  she  said  cordially.  "  It  is  ages 
since  you  have  been  over.     How  is  your  sister  ?  " 

"Much  as  usual."  The  keen  cold  eyes  that  Vaughan  had 
never  removed  from  her  face  appeared  dissatisfied.  "  What 
is  the  matter  ? "  he  said  quietly.  "  Something  upset  you 
before  you  met  us  ?  " 

"  Nothing — only  a  brute  of  a  man  who  followed  me.  No, 
don't  look  round,  Eldred !     Come  along,  he  has  gone." 

She  almost  pushed  her  husband  past  the  ticket  collector, 
to  whom  he  was  too  well  known  to  show  his  Season,  for  both 
men  had  turned  with  an  abrupt  "  Where  ?  "  "  Where  is  he  ?  " 
and  their  faces  threatened  trouble.  She  laughed  a  little  as 
she  stepped  between  them,  and  by  going  forward  drew  them 
perforce  out  of  the  station  to  follow  her. 

"  Nowhere — don't  make  a  fuss  !  "  she  said.  "  There !  I  am 
well  escorted." 

She  looked  from  one  man  to  the  other,  but  her  glance, 
which  began  at  Vaughan,  forgot  him  the  instant  it  reached 
her  husband,  and  her  grey  eyes  were  too  happy  to  be  cold. 
She  kept  her  hand  in  his  arm,  regardless  of  the  busy  road 
they  had  to  cross  to  reach  their  own  turning,  and  went  on 
chatting  to  both  her  companions  with  a  facility  that  threw 
nobody  out  of  the  conversation. 

"  Eldred,  whom  do  you  think  I  heard  from  this  morning  ?  " 


AS   YE    HAVE   SOWN.  17 

"  Can't  think — my  people  or  yours  ?  " 

"  Neither.  Don't  throw  away  your  cigarette,  Gerald.  It 
is  sinful  waste  !  That  girl  whom  we  met  in  Madeira — Miss 
Mornington.  She  is  in  England  at  last  with  her  own  people, 
and  wants  to  come  down  and  see  us." 

"  Does  she  ?  "  said  Eldred  with  new  interest.  "  I  should 
like  to  see  her  again — they  were  nice  people.  I  liked  Lady 
Helen — she  was  a  dear  old  soul !  A  regular  Grande  Dame, 
you  know,  Gerald,  with  the  most  charming  manners.  I 
used  to  go  up  there  to  sing  for  her,  and  she  would  sit  and 
listen  for  an  hour,  and  then  offer  me  old  Madeira  on  account 
of  my  throat !  "  With  an  instinct  of  happy  mimicry  he  re- 
produced the  courteous  old  voice  lingering  in  his  memory, 
and  then  laughed  boyishly.  There  was  an  extraordinary 
impression  of  youth  and  a  simplicity  of  bearing  about  Eldred 
Leroy  that  caused  people  to  think  him  younger  than  he  really 
was,  an  illusion  increased  by  his  being  clean-shaven. 
Strangers  rarely  knew  whether  he  were  good  looking,  and 
they  never  thought  about  his  being  a  gentleman — the  very 
lack  of  ostentation  in  him  made  it  seem  inevitable.  He  was 
not  much  above  the  middle  height,  and  his  wife's  head  was 
nearly  on  a  level  with  his  own. 

"  Lady  Helen  adored  Eldred  !  "  said  Fate  with  intentional 
exaggeration.  "  They  used  to  flirt  disgracefully  while  I 
talked  to  the  niece.  That  was  how  it  was  I  came  to  know 
her  better  than  I  might  otherwise  have  done,  and  she  has 
always  seemed  to  wish  to  keep  up  the  acquaintance." 

Vaughan  raised  his  eyebrows  rather  cynically,  and  thereby 
dropped  the  eyeglass  that  was  usually  screwed  under  one  of 
them. 

"  You  seem  very  suddenly  modest,"  he  remarked  in  a 
voice  which  had  a  peculiar  croak  in  it  and  drew  people's 
attention  before  his  face  did.  "  I  don't,  of  course,  wish  to 
make  you  vain,  but  people  have  been  known  who  were  willing 
to  cultivate  you  before." 

"Well,  never  mind  that!  She  interested  me,  and  so  I 
cultivated  her.  T  could  not  quite  make  out  the  situation- 
she  was  only  connected  with  Lady  Helen,  who  was  her  god- 
mother, and  she  had  a  father  and  mother  in  England  whom 
she  never  even  visited  !  " 

"They  were  rolling  in  money,"  interpolated  Eldred.  "It 
was    awfully  odd    altogether.      Her   father   is    Mornington, 

2 


i8  AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

the     man    who    invented    the    cart-wheel — you    remember, 
Vaughan  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know  the  name,  of  course.  Is  the  daughter 
also  a  Grande  Dame?" 

"  Well,  she  was  only  a  girl — but  yes !  I  think  she  is 
rather,"  said  Fate,  after  consideration.  "  She  has  the  same 
manner — naturally,  always  living  with  Lady  Helen,  she  has 
caught  the  ways  of  the  last  generation  of  the  aristocracy,  of 
which  I  think  the  old  lady  was  a  real  type.  She  happens 
to  be  of  an  impressive  build  too  !  " 

Vaughan  made  a  little  impatient  sound,  like  the  champ 
of  a  restive  horse.  "  I  know  what  you  mean — the  sort  of 
girl  a  coster  would  call  a  whopper !  " 

"  But  I  don't  mean ! "  expostulated  Fate,  too  much  in 
earnest  to  be  careful  of  her  English.  "  Not  in  that  way,  at 
any  rate.  Patricia  Momington  is  not  much  taller  than  I  am, 
but  she  is  not  so  slight  either.  She  will  have  a  magnificent 
figure  some  day — which  of  course  appeals  to  you,  as  a 
man! " 

Mrs.  Leroy  was  intentionally  malicious.  The  gibe  told  on 
Vaughan's  temperament,  which  was  as  well  known  to  her  as 
her  husband's,  and  perhaps  more  plastic  in  her  hands.  He 
shifted  the  glass  from  his  right  to  his  left  eye,  and  glared 
down  upon  her  apparently  unconscious  face. 

"  May  I  ask  why  I  am  relegated  suddenly  to  mere  mascu- 
linity, with  appetites  rather  than  a  mind  ?  "  he  said  irritably. 
"  Your  Patricia  is  an  offence  to  me  by  reason  of  all  her 
attributes — grossness  of  body,  and  grossness  of  circum- 
stances. She  is  too  prosperous  to  please  a  failure  like  my- 
self— she  will  come  down  here  to  intrude  her  prosperity,  and 
patronise  you ! " 

"  Patronise — me?  "  said  Mrs.  Leroy  with  gentle  incredulity, 
"  Dear  Gerald,  you  are  less  understanding  than  I  thought ! 
Besides  which,  Patricia  Momington  is  not  gross  in  mind, 
body,  or  estate.  She  happens  to  be  a  well-bred  woman  with 
an  interesting  personality." 

"  I  detest  women  who  are  labelled  interesting ! "  said 
Vaughan,  in  the  pettish  manner  of  a  spoiled  child. 

"  She  was  an  awfully  nice  girl,  really !  "  remarked  Eldred, 
with  literal  simplicity  of  diction.  "  I  never  knew  anyone 
who  put  on  less  side.  And  she  came  of  rather  good  family, 
I  think — wasn't  her  mother  Lady  Someone,  Babs  ?  " 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  19 

"  Lady  Vera  Blais.  I  gather  that  she  is  rather  a  loud, 
smart  person,  who  is  fashionably  estranged  from  her  husband. 
Didn't  you  think  so,  Eldred?  I  don't  exactly  know  how  we 
came  to  that  conclusion,  for  neither  Lady  Helen  nor  Patricia 
ever  talked  much  of  their  private  affairs." 

"  A  highflyer  at  fashion,  as  that  delightful  soul  Mr.  Boffin 
explained  it  once  and  for  ever!  Well,  I  do  not  like  your 
Patricia  Momington  any  the  better  for  the  world  to  which 
she  belongs.  Society  is  simply  another  name  for  vulgarity 
nowadays." 

"  Don't  be  prejudiced,  Gerald.  If  you  are,  I  know  you 
will  never  see  any  good  in  her  should  you  chance  to  meet, 
charm  she  never  so  wisely." 

"  Heaven  forbid !  "  said  Vaughan,  with  his  characteristic 
croak  intensified,  as  he  unlatched  her  own  gate  for  her,  and 
followed  both  his  host  and  hostess  slowly  up  the  little  path 
to  a  porched  doorway.  "If  I  meet  your  Patricia  the  evil 
spirit  in  me  will  advise  me  to  suppress  her  for  the  good  of 
our  two  souls — I  know  it  will.  Eldred,  that  rose  of  yours 
needs  pruning." 

"  It  wants  nailing  up — that's  what's  the  matter  with  it," 
said  Leroy,  standing  back  to  survey  his  own  premises.  "  I 
believe  I've  just  time  before  dinner,  Babs.  I'll  get  the  steps. 
Oh,  by  the  way  " — he  waited  a  moment  in  the  hall  as  his  wife 
and  Vaughan  strolled  into  the  drawing-room — "you  might 
ask  Mary  to  get  them  instead.    They  are  in  the  bicycle-shed." 

Fate  turned  rather  hastily  and  indicated  a  silver  box  lying 
on  a  side  table.  "Will  you  smoke  a  cigarette,  Gerald?  just 
while  I  see  to  Eldred's  wants,"  she  said,  and  without  waiting 
for  a  reply,  passed  out  into  the  hall  again,  and  closed  the 
door,  carefully  shutting  Vaughan  into  the  drawing-room  and 
out  of  sight. 

The  minute  she  had  done  so,  Leroy  turned  from  the  stand 
Avhere  he  had  been  elaborately  hanging  up  his  hat,  and  the 
two  seemed  to  melt  into  each  other's  arms  by  a  mutual 
impulse.  There  was  a  slightly  guilty  air  about  them  as  they 
drew  breath  after  their  first  long  kiss,  and  half  a  glance  at 
the  closed  door. 

"  I  haven't  seen  you  all  day  long,"  whispered  Fate,  in  self- 
defence,  though  he  had  certainly  made  no  accusation. 

"  I  know  !  "  he  whispered  back.  "  Oh,  you  foolish  Babs ! 
Did  you  miss  me,  sweetheart  ?  " 


20  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

"  Of  course  I  did !  "  They  looked  into  each  other's  eyes 
and  laughed. 

"  I  didn't  really  want  Mary  or  the  steps ! "  said  Eldred, 
framing  his  wife's  cool,  sweet  face  in  hands  which  were 
faintly  reminiscent  of  tobacco.  Fate  thought  it  quite  a  hate- 
ful scent  if  it  lingered  about  other  men,  but  in  Eldred's  case 
she  found  it  merely  delightful,  and  nestled  her  chin  into  the 
strong  palms. 

"  Of  course  I  knew  you  didn't !  How  silly  you  are  to  think 
I  shouldn't  know.     Eldred  !— " 

"Well?" 

"  How  Gerald  would  snort  if  he  knew  that  we  were  standing 
just  outside  that  door  like  this  !  " 

"I  bet  you  five  to  one  he  guesses!"  said  Leroy,  his  rather 
shrewd  blue  eyes  set  in  wrinkles  of  laughter. 

A  sound  from  the  drawing-room — a  step  approaching  the 
door — made  them  fall  decorously  apart.  There  was  a  flutter 
of  skirts  as  Mrs.  Leroy  flew  down  the  passage  to  the  kitchen, 
and  the  striking  of  a  match  as  Leroy  lit  a  superfluous 
cigarette — but  it  is  unlikely  that  Gerald  Vaughan  was  de- 
ceived, for  he  had  known  Eldred  and  his  wife  for  seven  of  the 
eight  years  during  which  they  had  been  married,  and  had 
found  no  alteration  in  their  marital  attitude.  Being  a  bache- 
lor, it  is  probable  that  he  wondered  a  little  ;  but  being  a  man 
it  is  more  probable  that  it  gnawed  the  flesh  of  his  own 
discontent. 

Dinner  took  place  under  the  auspices  of  wax  candles, 
despite  the  daylight  dying  in  the  little  garden  outside  the 
open  windows.  It  was  a  harmonious  trio  who  sat  down 
to  four  innocuous  courses,  Vaughan  being  so  often  a 
third  in  the  party  that  it  seemed  as  if  his  presence 
completed  rather  than  added  a  discordant  note  to  the  melody 
of  this  household.  His  seat  was  facing  the  windows,  and  the 
fading  sunset  struggled  with  the  lights  upon  the  dinner  table 
to  bring  out  the  lines  of  weariness  and  disappointment  in  his 
face.  For  he  did  not  bear  the  record  of  a  satisfied  person- 
ality about  him,  and  perhaps  in  describing  himself  as  a  failure, 
he  struck  upon  a  deeper  truth  than  mere  disadvantage  of 
circumstances.  The  same  temperament  that  made  him  over- 
sensitive made  him  also  honourable — he  saw  the  pattern  of 
existence  too  plainly  to  deceive  himself  as  to  its  ultimate 
effects,  and  he  could  not  shuffle  his  knowledge  of  right  and 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  21 

wrong,  even  to  himself.  If  it  had  not  been  for  a  sense  of 
humour,  the  world  would  have  found  him  yet  more  vulner- 
able. As  it  was,  he  counted  himself  a  failure — and  shrugged 
his  shoulders.  He  was  by  profession  an  electrical  engineer, 
which  is  very  like  other  professions,  only  rather  more  so. 
For  if  a  man  does  not  like  the  practice  as  well  as  the  theory 
of  his  work  he  will  never  be  a  success,  and  Vaughan  objected 
to  soiling  his  hands  with  the  practice.  Being  by  nature  con- 
scientious, and  having  the  hard  common  sense  of  the  class 
that  works  rubbed  into  him  by  necessity,  he  had  gone  through 
the  shops  when  an  improver  with  a  more  rigid  attention  to 
detail  than  many  other  boys,  and  had  learned  his  work 
thoroughly — which,  however,  is  quite  compatible  with  finding 
it  uncongenial  to  the  bitter  end.  When  his  business  day  was 
over,  and  a  welcome  five  or  six  o'clock  found  him  out  at  his 
own  home,  or  at  Sunnington,  it  was  noticeable  that  he  never 
talked  shop  as  some  amongst  his  friends  did ;  he  was  secretly 
glad  to  forget  his  profession  as  soon  as  possible.  Eldred, 
by  nature  a  creator  and  driver  of  machinery,  bored  a  patient 
audience  far  more  often  with  alternators,  internal  combustion 
engines,  and  tubular  boilers,  than  Vaughan,  to  whom  they 
were  prosaically  familiar  things,  but  not  the  medium  in  which 
his  soul  found  expression.  For  a  time  Vaughan  had  been 
connected  with  a  big  firm,  but  it  was  obvious  that  he  would 
never  rise  to  the  position  of  chief  designer,  fussily  thorough 
though  his  work  was.  He  was  a  theorist,  and  lacked  the 
practical  man's  invaluable  uses  to  his  employers.  So  he  be- 
came a  consulting  engineer,  having  a  little  capital,  and  made 
enough  to  supplement  his  own  small  private  means  and  leave 
him  dissatisfied.  The  failures  of  this  world  are  not  the  vie-  \ 
tims  of  a  cynical  Providence  so  much  as  of  their  own  natures.  ' 

"  We  have  been  staying  with  one  of  Eldred's  aunts  this 
summer,  Gerald,"  Fate  remarked,  as  the  maid  brought  in 
their  coffee.  "We  allowed  her  to  invite  us  for  part  of  our 
holiday,  for  economical  reasons,  but  I  think  we  spent  more 
in  mental  wear  and  tear  than  we  gained  in  hard  cash." 

"  Staying  with  an  aunt,  deliberately,  meets  with  my 
sympathy  no  more  than  any  other  rash  crime,"  said  Vaughan, 
thoughtfully  cracking  walnuts.     "What  could  you  expect? 

"  Well,  she  deceived  me.  She  looks  like  a  bit  of  old 
Dresden  china.  How  could  I  guess  that  she  would  go  to 
church  seven  times  on  a  Sunday  ?  " 


22  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

"  Oh,  that  was  her  ailment,  was  it !  Poor  old  lady  !  I  can 
see  her,  in  my  own  mind,  more  depressed  each  day  with 
Eldred's  heathenism,  I  hope  you  had  the  grace,  at  least,  to 
be  silent,  Eldred  ?  " 

"  On  my  honour  I  never  said  a  word — except  to  refuse  to 
go  to  church  myself.  I  wouldn't  have  hurt  her  feelings  for 
the  world.  She  makes  herself  happy  in  her  delusion,  that  is 
all ! "  There  was  the  most  sublime  pity  and  kindness  in 
Leroy's  tone,  as  one  who  favours  the  game  of  a  child. 

"  Yes,  and  yet  I  hardly  think  it  is  good  for  her,"  said  Mrs. 
Leroy  musingly.  "  I  never  before  knew  anyone  who  grew  so 
dissipated  with  religious  observances.  She  visibly  de- 
teriorated with  the  indulgence — it  was  quite  amusing.  Sun- 
day was  a  most  immoral  day  with  her.  I  felt  afterwards  as 
if  I  had  been  somewhere  where  they  had  dined  too  well,  and 
over-eaten  and  drunk  and  smoked.  I  wanted  a  brisk  walk 
and  a  cold  bath  on  Mondays  to  resuscitate.  Nevertheless,  I 
hope  I  may  look  as  charming  as  she  does  when  I  am  an  old 
lady." 

"  You  will  be  such  a  pretty  old  lady !  "  said  Vaughan,  with 
the  shadow  of  a  caress  in  his  voice.  "  Not  a  bit  like  old 
china — more  like  an  ideal  Quaker-grandmother,  I  think. 
Don't  you,  Eldred  ?  " 

Both  men  looked  at  her  in  her  blooming  youth  and  health, 
and  their  eyes  gave  her  an  affectionate  trust  that  whatever 
age  took  from  her,  it  would  not  take  their  pleasure  in  con- 
templatmg  her  face.  She  smiled  in  a  quiet  intuitive  fashion, 
that  was  purely  feminine. 

"  I  think  she  will  be  more  of  a  Grande  Dame^not  like 
Lady  Helen,  but  of  that  type,"  said  Eldred  fondly. 

Again  Vaughan  made  that  restive  movement  that  was 
almost  childish. 

"  Oh,  for  heaven's  sake  do  not  let  us  drift  back  to  Patricia 
Mornington ! "  he  said,  whimsically  impatient.  "  I  feel  as  if 
she  were  already  the  serpent  in  my  pet  Eden !  I  know  she 
will  come  wriggling  down  here  in  her  objectionable  affluence 
to  ogle  Eldred  and  poison  Fate's  tea-cup." 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  burst  of  laughter  from  either  end 
of  the  table. 

"  Patricia  ogling  anyone  is  too  funny  to  think  about ! " 
said  Fate.  "  But  apart  from  that,  I  really  believe  she  loves 
me  far  more  than  she  does  Eldred.     Come  and  smoke  in  the 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  23 

porch,  Gerald — your  dinner  is  disagreeing  with  you  for  lack 
of  fresh  air." 

There  was  a  quick  movement  from  both  men  towards  the 
drawing-room,  where,  through  the  open  doorway,  was  visible 
a  rustic  bamboo  chair  which  was  usually  carried  out  on  to 
the  front  doorsteps  for  Mrs.  Leroy  when  the  trio  sat  there  in 
the  summer  evenings.  Vaughan  was  nearer  the  door  and 
would  have  reached  it  first,  but  for  a  second  he  hesitated, 
seeing  that  his  host  had  also  moved.  Leroy  did  not  hesitate 
for  an  instant;  he  passed  the  other  man,  lifted  the  chair  and 
carried  it  out  for  his  wife  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  his  un- 
questioned privilege.  Vaughan  drew  up  his  tall,  spare  figure 
to  its  fullest  height,  and  stared  out  to  the  July  night  as  if 
nothing  had  occurred.  Mrs.  Leroy,  whose  back  had  been 
turned  to  both  men,  could  hardly  have  possessed  eyes  at  the 
back  of  her  head ;  yet  there  might  have  been  a  sixth  sense — 
the  feminine  sense — in  the  little  rings  of  hair  at  the  nape  of 
her  neck,  for  she  smiled  as  if  a  trifle  amused. 

"Haven't  you  any  news  for  us?"  said  Vaughan,  leaning 
one  flat  shoulder  against  the  porch  and  evidently  content  to 
stand  beside  her.  "  We  have  laboured  all  day  in  the  sweat 
of  our  brows,  and  have  eaten  far  too  much  dinner,  and  now 
we  want  to  be  amused." 

"  It  sounds  like  the  people  who  waxed  fat  and  kicked !  I 
don't  think  I  approve  your  mental  attitude,  but  I  will  do  my 
best.  I  called  on  Mrs.  Rodney  this  afternoon — ah !  that 
reminds  me  !  "  she  added,  tying  a  knot  carefully  in  the  comer 
of  a  small  fine  handkerchief. 

"  You  always  leave  out  the  interesting  points ! "  grumbled 
Vaughan.  "  I  don't  want  to  hear  about  Mrs.  Rodney— 
I  can  call  on  her  myself  any  day.  And  tJien  you  tie  a 
knot  in  a  good  handkerchief  and  spoil  it  and  don't  tell  me 
why." 

"  It  is  to  remind  me.  I  always  tie  knots  in  my  handker- 
chiefs to  remind  me,  and  sometimes  all  four  corners  get 
knotted  up,  and  then  I  can't  remember  what  one  of  them 
represents.  In  the  present  case  it  is  nothing  much — only  a 
domestic  question.  Marion  wants  a  maid,  and  I  thought  I 
would  go  round  and  ask  the  Durham  girls  about  one  they 
mentioned.  Marion  herself  is  sure  not  to  have  time ;  she  is 
doing  all  her  own  housework,  and  making  pretence  with  a 
little  "  Marchioness  "  who  reaches  somewhere  up  to  my  waist, 


24  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

and  it  is  wearing  her  out.  There  is  nothing  so  unbecoming 
as  the  servant  question." 

"  Mrs.  Rodney  is  a  splendid  manager,  though,"  said  Eldred, 
in  admiring  reminiscence.  "  D'you  remember  the  night  we 
dined  there  and  their  cook  got  drunk,  Babs?  Marion  Rodney 
calmly  sent  her  to  bed,  or  left  her  in  a  heap  on  the  floor,  or 
something,  and  tucked  up  her  gown  and  dished  up  and 
brought  in  the  food." 

"  Dished  up  ! "  said  Mrs.  Leroy  indignantly.  "  She  cooked 
it,  my  dear  boy  !  And  she  would  not  even  let  me  play  house- 
maid and  bring  in  the  dishes.  She  said  she  was  afraid  for  my 
gown." 

"  Then  she  sat  down  and  coolly  ate  the  course  and  carried 
it  out  and  brought  the  next,"  went  on  Eldred  laughing. 
"  She's  a  good  sort,  is  Marion  Rodney." 

"  She's  a  dear !  "  said  Fate  gently.  "  No  one  knows  how 
hard  she  works  to  make  that  household  run  smoothly  on  next 
to  no  money.  I  sometimes  think  that  marriage  is  the  sternest 
profession  of  any." 

"  Well,  of  course,  if  you  expect  your  wife  to  be  an  upper 
housemaid  and  cook  in  general  as  well  as  housekeeper !  " 
Vaughan  said  in  a  slightly  irritable  tone.  "  That  is  just  what 
keeps  me  and  other  devils  like  myself  out  of  it.  It  is  not 
every  man  who  would  accept  his  luck  as  placidly  as  Rodney 
does." 

"  Ah !  but  he  was  so  much  better  off  when  they  married, 
Gerald.  That  is  just  where  a  woman  of  our  class  must  be 
ready  for  ups-and-downs — the  men  have  neither  capital  nor 
rich  relations  to  fall  back  upon." 

"  I  should  hate  my  wife  to  have  to  be  a  kind  of  white 
slave,"  said  Vaughan  with  quiet  obstinacy.  "  Therefore,  I 
should  never  ask  a  poor  woman  to  take  me.  And  by  the 
same  token  I  would  not  marry  a  rich  one,  for  the  simple 
justice  of  the  thing.  I  do  not  think  that  Gerald  Vaughan  is 
such  a  desirable  possession  that  he  is  worth  rating  at  a  high 
figure !  Now  you  understand  the  escape  that  somebody  has 
had." 

"  I  do  not  wish  you  to  marry  in  the  least,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy, 
with  an  untruthful  assertion  of  selfishness.  "  I  have  had  you 
too  long  at  my  beck  and  call,  and  a  wife  would  interfere 
dreadfully.  When  Eldred  is  not  at  hand  I  always  feel  that 
I  have  you  as  a  subordinate." 


AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN.  25 

"  Unfortunately  for  me,  Eldred  always  is  at  hand !  "  said 
Vaughan,  lightly.  "  The  selfishness  of  the  modem  husband 
is  a  scandal — no  bachelor  has  a  chance  to  even  sample  the 
position  by  playing  escort.  Do  either  of  you  know  it  is  ten 
o'clock,  and  that  1  have  to  catch  a  train  to  get  home  ?  " 

"  I  hope  your  sister  will  not  sit  up,"  said  Fate  demurely, 
with  a  faint  spice  of  wickedness  in  her  tone.  "  You  will 
catch  nothing  but  the  10.40,  so  you  may  as  well  have  a 
whiskey  and  soda  with  Eldred.  And  don't  fall  over  Phlumpie 
— he  is  sitting  down  by  the  gate.  I  can  see  a  white  blur 
upon  the  darkness." 

"  He'll  get  rushed  by  a  dog  if  he  stays  there,"  said  Leroy, 
as  he  turned  back  into  the  hall  to  fetch  the  whiskey  and  soda. 
He  whistled  as  he  did  so,  and  the  blur  at  the  gate  became 
detached,  and  running  up  the  drive  resolved  itself  first  into 
a  bundle  of  white  fur  that  shook  as  it  trotted — then  into  a 
large  white  Angora  cat. 

"  My  lamb !  "  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  patting  him  like  a  dog  as  he 
went  by.  "  Did  he  sit  at  the  gate,  and  think  he  was  a  fierce 
lion  guarding  us,  then  ?  " 

But  Phlumpie  proceeded  after  his  master,  and  took  no 
heed  of  her  blandishments.  He  adored  Leroy,  whom  he  fol- 
lowed about  like  a  dog,  and  if  ever  there  were  an  expression 
in  his  pale,  gooseberry  eyes  that  was  not  quietly  contemptuous 
of  humanity,  it  was  when  he  sat  upon  Eldred's  knee  and  ate 
bread  daintily  from  his  fingers. 

"  Phlumpie  is  so  horridly  masculine  and  indifferent !  "  said 
Mrs.  Leroy,  complainingly.  "  He  will  not  take  any  notice 
of  me." 

"  Well  really  1  "  said  Vaughan,  with  a  long  breath  of  ex- 
asperation. "  You  do  say  the  most  outrageous  things !  Con- 
sidering that  in  your  case  masculinity  and  indifference  are  an 
unknown  combination,  I  think  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
yourself." 

"  But,  Gerald,  I  can't  attract  a  man  who  doesn't  appeal  to 
me  in  some  way,  really !  That  is  just  what  I  complain  of — 
Providence  might  have  made  me  all-conquering.  There  was 
that  man  at  Mrs.  Rodney's  the  other  night " 

"  Hodder !  He  walked  to  the  station  with  me  and 
drivelled  about  you  the  whole  way.     But  pray  go  on." 

"Well,  of  course  I  didn't  know  that! — and  he  said  pretty 
things  about  me  to  Marion  Rodney,  but  then  that  was  to 


26  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

please  her.     If  he  had  really  thought  them  he  would  have 
lied,  wouldn't  he  ?  " 

Vaughan's  usually  unresponsive  eyes  gave  a  quick,  cold 
flash  as  they  rested  on  her  face ;  but  her  own  glance  was  out 
in  the  night,  amongst  the  stars  that  were  beginning  to  twinkle 
over  the  tree  tops.  The  woman  who  will  not  see  is  perchance 
absolved  by  her  own  conscience ;  but  the  woman  who  really 
does  not  see,  is,  one  may  suppose,  absolved  by  a  higher 
tribunal  still. 

"  I  hope  you  cannot  always  hear  what  is  in  people's  minds  I  " 
he  said  rather  suddenly. 

"  I  have  no  great  intuition,  really.  I  was  only  sup- 
posing Mr.  Hodder  the  ordinary  man,  who  is  a  secretive 
animal." 

"  Well,  what  would  you  have  ?  Plain  speaking  is  a  luxury 
which   only   the   very  few   are  fortunate  enough   to   afford. 

And  you  would  be  the  very  first  to  condemn "     He  broke 

off  with  a  half  vexed,   half   impatient   laugh   as  Leroy  re- 
appeared with  the  whiskey  and  soda. 

"  You'll  just  catch  your  train  if  you  go  at  once,  Gerald," 
he  said.  "  Oh,  you  have  time  for  the  whiskey — I  didn't 
mean  that !  You'll  excuse  my  coming  to  the  station,  won't 
you?" 

"  Of  course,  old  man  !  "  There  was  a  shade  of  something 
that  might  have  been  remorse,  had  it  been  less  elusive,  in 
Vaughan's  manner.  He  laid  his  hand  on  Eldred's  shoulder 
almost  affectionately,  and  a  little  dissatisfied  look  crept  into 
his  hard  eyes.  There  was  no  answering  remorse  in  Mrs. 
Leroy,  possibly  because  she  was  perfectly  unconscious  of  any 
such  mental  attitude  in  Vaughan,  and  had  certainly  no  cor- 
responding sense  of  guilt,  though  never  so  faint,  to  match  it. 
She  was,  in  fact,  waiting  for  him  to  go,  and  though  her  soft 
smile  was  not  in  the  least  impatient  as  they  shook  hands,  she 
heard  the  gate  click  after  him  with  satisfaction,  and  the 
sound  of  his  crisp  step  along  the  road  dying  into  distance 
took  the  thought  of  him  along  with  it,  out  of  her  mind. 

There  was  no  light  in  the  hall  behind  herself  and  Eldred, 
and  it  was  dark  on  the  doorstep.  Overhead  a  July  sky  was 
thickly  strewn  with  stars,  but  their  light  was  faint  and  there 
was  no  intrusive  moon.  Why  lovers  should  be  proverbially 
attached  to  the  moon  is  a  mystery.  Her  light  is  far  too 
searching  to  be  satisfactory,  and  she  has  an  embarrassing 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  27 

habit  of  illuminating  dark  corners  almost  as  well  as  electric 
light. 

Fate  drew  a  long  breath  of  content  as  she  slipped  her  arm 
into  her  husband's  and  leaned  her  head  back  against  his 
shoulder.  Her  eyes,  raised  in  dreamy  satisfaction  to  the 
night  sky,  forgot  it  the  next  instant  because  the  face  near  her 
was  more  dearly  human  to  gaze  upon.  The  loveliness  of  the 
world  was  only  a  scenic  background — they  had  each  other, 
and  the  real  universe  was  there. 

"  Tired,  Babs  ?  "  he  said  softly,  and  the  musical  voice  was 
utterly  tender. 

"  No — only    happy !  "    said    Mrs.    Leroy.     "  Eldred,    is   it 
possible  that  we  have  been  married  eight  years  ?  " 
"  Yes.     It  doesn't  seem  so  much,  does  it  ?  " 
"  It  seems  only  like  a  very  beautiful  summer  day  ! " 
There  was  no  light  in  the  hall  behind  them,  it  is  true,  but 
cats    do   not    require    light   by    which    to    see    and    to    be 
scandalised.     Phlumpie,  rubbing  a  whiskered  face  round  the 
open  door,   regarded  them  with  pale,  gooseberry  eyes  that 
seemed  to  express  an  unlimited  contempt.     If  he  had  spoken, 
it  is  probable  that  he   would  have   said  they  ought  to  be 
ashamed    of    themselves — considering    that   they    had    been 
married  eight  years !     But  Phlumpie  was  an  aristocrat  of  his 
species,   and  nearly  thoroughbred.     Neither  his  sympathies 
nor  his  understanding  were  with  demonstrative  affection  be- 
tween husband  and  wife. 


28 


CHAPTER  III. 

"  She  moves  about  my  world,  soullessly  real, 
She  is  most  sad  in  that  she  is  most  gay ; 
Her  face  is  shadowed  with  my  lost  ideal, — 
Touched  by  the  trs^edy  of  Every  Day." 

The  Living  Deaa. 

"  Chiffon  !  " 

"Nougat!" 

The  butler  had  really  retired  after  announcing  Miss  Morn- 
ington,  which  was  good  of  him,  because  all  Lady  Harbinger's 
household  were  very  interested  in  their  mistress,  and  every 
one  of  the  servants  knew  of  her  friendship  with  Patricia 
Momington,  besides  many  other  things  about  that  lady 
which  were  supposed  to  be  family  secrets.  Therefore  the 
Harbinger  butler  deserved  an  increase  in  his  wages  for  the 
prompt  manner  in  which  he  closed  the  door  and  left  the 
two  women  motionless  in  the  room,  looking  at  each  other 
with  instinctive  curiosity  across  the  barrier  of  six  years,  for 
the  friendship  stood  practically  where  it  had  stood  when 
they  left  school  together. 

Lady  Harbinger  had  been  sitting,  according  to  her  custom, 
upon  a  divan  on  the  further  side  of  the  room.  All  the 
available  cushions  had  been  piled  round  and  behind  her 
small  figure,  and  her  pretty  fawn  toes  dangled  half  a  foot 
above  the  floor,  for  she  was  short  and  the  divan  was  wide. 
She  was  reading  the  Morning  Post  and  smoking  a  Dimitrino 
of  a  quality  which  made  itself  instantly  perceptible  to  the 
appreciative  nostrils  of  her  guest.  The  Fost  tumbled  on  to 
the  floor,  and  the  cigarette  fell  into  the  ash-tray,  as  she 
came  forward  with  a  little  rush — and  then  half  hesitated. 

On  the  other  hand,  Patricia  Momington  had  advanced  some 
way  into  the  wide  room  before  she  also  slackened  her  step, 
and  looked  with  half  quizzical  eyes  at  Lady  Harbinger — eyes 


AS   YE    HAVE    SOWN.  29 

which  were  somehow  as  quizzical  of  herself  as  of  her  friend. 
She  was  built  on  a  scale  as  completely  large  as  Lady  Har- 
binger was  completely  small,  and  the  contrast  seemed  to 
strike  them  both,  for  they  broke  into  a  simultaneous  laugh. 

"  Nougat,  how  tall  you  are  1  "  said  Lady  Harbinger  with 
a  gasp,  and  then  she  finished  her  interrupted  rush  forw^ard 
and  put  her  arms  round  Miss  Mornington  and  kissed  her 
warmly. 

"I  might  retort.  Chiffon,  how  small  you  are!"  said  Miss 
Mornington  fondly,  looking  down  on  the  slighter  girl  after 
the  close,  silent  embrace.  "  My  dear,  I  have  evidently  for- 
gotten you — I  expected  a  mature  married  woman,  and  you 
look  much  younger  than  when  we  left  St.  Clare's !  " 

"  What  nonsense !  but  I  believe  I  do  look  young.  I  am 
very  old  really,  you  know.  Nougat.  I  have  been  married 
for  the  last  four  years,  and  my  daughter  is  three  years  old !  " 

She  broke  into  the  heartiest  and  most  charming  laugh, 
and  pushed  the  golden  hair  out  of  her  dancing  eyes.  One 
could  as  perfectly  understand  why  she  had  been  nicknamed 
''Chiffon,"  after  the  first  glance  at  her,  as  the  suitability  of 
her  friend's  designation  became  obvious  after  a  longer 
acquaintance.  At  first  sight,  Patricia  Mornington  appeared 
an  impossible  person  to  nick-name;  no  one  had  ever  called 
her  "  Pat "  or  "  Pattie,"  even  as  a  child,  and  she  had  no 
sobriquet  of  characteristics  or  adventures.  But  the  knack 
of  the  schoolgirl  had  defied  ordinary  caBons.  At  the  Con- 
vent of  St.  Clare,  where  she  had  met  and  loved  with  Cicily 
Chilcote,  the  two  girls  had,  it  seemed,  evolved  their  own 
contractions  of  "Chiffon"  and  "Nougat."  There  was  some- 
thing in  the  creamy,  solid  substance  of  the  favourite  sweet- 
meat which  quick-witted  schoolmates  recognised  in  Patricia's 
character.  She  w^as  sweet  to  taste,  but  not  mawkish;  full 
of  delightful  surprises,  that  might  be  bitter  almond  or  rare 
pistachio  nut ;  a  trifle  slow  to  masticate,  a  bon-bon  to  muse 
over  and  suck  with  gradual  enjoyment — no  sugary  fondant 
or  ephemeral  candy.  Nougat  she  had  been  by  natural  evolu- 
tion, and  Nougat  she  would  always  be  to  the  feminine  in- 
tuition that  knew  her  intimately. 

"  Tt  seems  impossible  that  all  these  things  can  have  hap- 
pened since  we  oarted !  "  Patricia  said  slowly,  with  a  long 
breath.  "You  look  so  absurdly  young!  Chiffon,  isn't  it 
characteristic  of  the  English  Social  World,  that  we  have  both 


30  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

been  at  home  for  some  weeks  and  have  not  met  to  have 
a  talk  until  now?  Beyond  catching  sight  of  you  the  other 
night  at  the  Havershams,  and  once  in  a  box  at  the  Opera, 
we  have  not  met !  " 

"  It  may  be  characteristic,  but  it  is  an  abominable  shame ! " 
said  Lady  Harbinger  energetically.  "  I  have  called  three 
times — I  really  have,  Nougat! — and  once  I  saw  Mr.  Morn- 
ington  just  going  oflf  to  his  Club,  and  twice  I  saw  the  butler ! 
But  never  you.     Where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"  If  you  asked  where  I  have  not  been,  I  could  tell  you 
more  easily.  I  knew  nothing  of  English  Society,  and  so  for 
this  first  plunge  into  it  I  allowed  my  mother  to  be  my  guide. 
I  have  not  decided  yet  what  my  own  particular  circle  is  going 
to  be.  By  and  by,  I  shall  weed  out  my  visiting  list,  I  sup- 
pose, and  have  my  own  friends." 

She  spoke  with  an  unruffled  certainty,  that  made  Chiffon 
look  at  her  a  trifle  curiously.  Anyone  knowing  Lady  Vera 
Mornington  would  have  been  emphatic  in  their  assertion  that 
her  daughter's  set  would  certainly  be  hers,  and  that  she 
would  lead  and  direct  all  their  social  life  at  least.  And  yet 
Chiffon,  looking  at  her  friend's  firm  lips  and  quiet  con- 
templative eyes,  realised  that  here  was  a  woman,  mature  in 
her  tastes  and  character,  and  quite  full  of  intention  to  follow 
her  own  bent — no  malleable  schoolgirl  for  Lady  Vera  to 
stamp  with  her  own  image  and  superscription.  In  a  flash 
she  reviewed  both  characters  as  she  knew  them — and  won- 
dered. But  her  knowledge  of  Lady  Vera  was  much  more 
recent  than  that  of  Nougat,  and  in  consequence  the  older 
woman  impressed  her  with  more  sense  of  power  than  the 
younger. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  will  ?  "  she  said  musingly.  "  We  must 
go  with  the  herd — a  vulgar  expression,  but  one  that  suggests 
the  influence  your  connections  have  upon  you.  They  have 
already  made  your  world  by  the  time  you  are  grown  up,  and 
you  step  into  it.  Only,  of  course,  you  are  older  than  I 
was ?  " 

"  I  am  much  older  than  you  ever  will  be !  "  said  Patricia, 
with  a  low  laugh.  "And  I  am  a  most  opinionated  mortal, 
I  assure  you.  It  is  partly  your  own  fault  that  we  have  not 
met  until  the  season  is  practically  over.  Chiffon — ^you  most 
unfashionablv  remained  out  ol  town  until  the  beginning  of 
July." 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  31 

"We  could  not  help  it — Bobby's  mother  was  so  ill  at 
Nice.  We  dragged  on  there  week  after  week,  both  longing 
to  come  home,  and  really  wishing  that  she  would  make  up 
her  mind  either  to  die  or  get  better!  Well,  anyhow,  they 
say  people  will  stop  in  town  into  August,  on  account  of  the 
Session,  so  we  shan't  be  quite  deserted.  I  hope  you  won't 
go  yet.  Nougat  ?  " 

"  I  don't  quite  know  what  we  shall  do.  We  so  often  motor 
into  the  country,  either  for  the  day  or  the  inside  of  a  week, 
that  it  seems  to  be  quite  unnecessary  to  pack  up  and 
make  a  solemn  exodus.  You  are  staying  for  the  present, 
then?" 

"  My  dear,  I  am  positively  in  rags !  I  must  get  some 
clothes.  We  did  not  stop  in  Paris  on  our  way  home,  or  I 
could  have  done  everything  so  satisfactorily.  I  go  to  Lady 
Vera's  tailor  now !  " 

"Yes?" 

"Don't  clothes  interest  you,  Nougat?  You  said  that  with 
such  supreme  indifference ;  but  everyone  knows  that  your 
mother  is  one  of  the  best-dressed  women  in  London !  " 

"  Suppose  we  sit  down,  and  then  we  can  discuss  every- 
thing comfortably — from  frocks  to  former  loves.  (Will  you 
ever  forget  falling  in  love  with  a  gendarme,  and  our  disgust 
when  he  preferred  the  cook?)  I  know,  of  course,  that  I  ought 
to  wait  for  you  to  ask  me,  but  past  knowledge  of  you  tells 
me  that  we  should  both  be  standing  here  until  midnight,  if 
I  did  not  make  a  move." 

"  I  never  could  remember  to  sit  down  when  I  was  excited !  " 
said  Lady  Harbinger  remorsefully.  "  My  feet  keep  itching 
to  run  about!  Come  and  sit  on  the  divan  and  curl  your 
feet  up  like  a  Turk,  if  you  are  not  too  tall.  I  usually  kick 
my  shoes  off,  and  then  they  get  lost  and  the  footman  finds 
them  in  embarrassing  situations  !  " 

She  gave  a  wicked  little  laugh,  and  tucked  herself  up  into 
a  corner  of  the  wide  seat,  settling  three  cushions  into  the 
hollow  of  her  small  shoulders,  and  leaning  her  head  back 
against  a  heavy  fall  of  curtain  behind  her.  The  spun  gold 
of  her  hair  was  delicious,  thrown  up  by  the  dark  blue  of 
the  velvet.  Patricia  looked  her  all  over  with  fond  admiring 
eyes. 

"  You  dear  little  thing !  "  she  said  slowly.  "  How  pretty 
an  Englishwoman  can  be !     One  needs  to  live  abroad  for 


32  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

years,  and  get  used  to  uncleanly  skins  and  pert  expressions, 
to  appreciate  you  properly." 

Chiffon  opened  her  eyes  a  little  wider,  and  laughed  with 
amused  surprise.  Her  skin  had  the  cool,  downy  quality  of 
a  child's,  and  the  fluffy  hair  and  half  questioning,  half  affec- 
tionate way  in  which  she  looked  up  at  larger  humanity,  made 
her  seem  preposterously  young. 

"  You  dear  old  Nougat ! — how  silly  you  are !  "  she  said 
with  a  little  gurgle  of  merriment.  "  Take  the  other  half  of 
the  cushions — ^there!  now  we  can  talk.  Bobby  and  I  are 
awfully  extravagant  over  cushions.  We  say  '  Do  let  us  each 
have  enough ! '  and  as  we  both  want  half  a  dozen,  this  room 
is  rather  over-run  with  them." 

"  It  is  a  charming  room,  though !  "  said  Patricia  apprecia- 
tively. "  It  looks  as  if  you  lived  in  it,  and  did  not  call  it 
anything  in  particular.  I  detest  the  British  custom  of  a 
set  apartment  for  the  diversions  of  the  day — it  is  like  locking 
your  life  up  in  sectional  cupboards.  Now  here  " — she  flung 
out  her  hand  with  a  regal  gesture  which  seemed  natural  to 
her — "  here  one  feels  that  if  you  called  it  a  library,  someone 
would  promptly  smoke  in  it,  and  if  a  smoking-room  they 
would  at  once  write  letters." 

"  It  is  just  that !  "  Chiffon  nodded.  "  We  keep  the  draw- 
ing-rooms for  functions, — well,  I  am  always  there  when  I 
want  to  be  stiff  to  people,  too — but  we  sit  here  when  we  are 
alone,  and  we  bring  our  best  friends  in.  I  don't  know  who 
that  writing-table  really  belongs  to,  and  we  quarrel  over  its 
possession;  and  Bobby  says  he  is  afraid  to  leave  his 
cigarettes  about,  I  use  them  up  so  fast.  I  don't  mean  him 
to  have  any  of  these  though — the  Duke  of  London  sent 
them  to  me,  and  they  are  his  special  brand."  She  sniffed 
the  Dimitrinos  appreciatively.  "  The  bookcase  is  behind 
here  " — ^knocking  her  head  lightly  against  the  curtain — "  all 
our  favourite  books  are  on  the  upper  shelves,  so  it  doesn't 
matter,  but  if  you  want  them  from  below,  you  have  to  push 
yourself  in  behind  the  divan." 

"  I  don't  think  I  should  like  my  books  hustled  out  of  sight 
like  that !     It  seems  like  being  ashamed  of  old  friends." 

"  Oh,  well,  I  never  have  time  to  read  anything — unless 
there's  a  novel  that  is  really  talked  about." 

"  No,  perhaps  not ! "  said  Nougat,  her  eyes  considering 
the  flashing  panorama   of  the   past  three  months,   in  her 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  33 

memory.     "I  think  you  may  be  right.     We  don't  have  time 
to  read  anything,  do  we!     We  hardly  have  time  to  live." 

"  I  read  a  good  deal  in  the  countr}- — during  the  shooting — 
I  do  really!  "  Chiffon  laughed  again,  nuzzling  her  fair  head 
into  the  curtains.  "  But  one  never  gets  a  chance  to  sit  down 
and  really  get  into  a  book  in  town.  Now  do  talk,  Nougat! 
Tell  me  about  yourself — do  you  know  I  haven't  even  seen 
you  for  four  years,  and  then  it  was  only  an  unsatisfactory 
glimpse !  " 

"The  last  time  was  in  Madrid,  wasn't  it?  When  we 
stumbled  across  each  other  in  the  Plaza  Major  ? " 

"  Yes ;  oh  I  did  so  enjoy  that  tour !  I  loved  Spain.  It 
was  much  nicer  than  my  honejonoon,  because  Bobby  and  I 
were  so  strange  then  that  we  were  afraid  of  even  borrowing 
a  piastre  from  each  other!  I  do  think  it  is  very  hard  to 
send  two  young  people  right  away  from  all  their  mutual 
friends,  shaking  with  nervousness,  and  as  shy  as  children  at 
a  party !" 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  your  marriage.  Chiffon.  Do 
you  remember  how  we  used  to  talk  at  St.  Clare?  It  was 
always  I  who  was  to  marry  for  ambition,  and  you  who  were 
to  marry  for  love  I  Here  you  see  Fortune  is  already  proving 
us  wrong  in  detail,  for  your  love-match  always  pre-supposed  a 
beggar,  and — you  are  a  Countess !  " 

"The  dear  old  Convent!  I  shall  never  quite  forgive  the 
French  Government  for  turning  out  the  Sceurs.  You  know  it 
is  all  gone.  Nougat?  We  stayed  in  Paris  at  Easter,  on  our 
way  to  Nice,  and  I  went  to  the  Faubourg — I  wish  I  had  not! " 

"  It  is  always  a  disappointment  to  go  back — somehow. 
Even  if  things  are  just  the  same,  one  is  altered  in  oneself. 
You  treated  me  very  badly  when  you  married,  by  the  way. 
You  wrote  me  the  bare  fact — and  told  me  nothing  more." 

"  There  was  nothing  to  tell — really  there  wasn't."  Chiffon 
shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I  met  Lord  Harbinger  at  a  state 
ball  and  he  trod  on  my  toes  and  I  hated  him !  (Bobby  never 
will  learn  to  dance  !)  Then  we  kept  on  meeting  all  through 
that  season,  and  hardly  knew  the  other  existed — oh,  you  can 
see  for  yourself  how  it  is!  Does  one  ever  seem  to  meet 
people  except  in  gasps  ?  But  in  the  autumn  I  went  to  stay  at 
Longmead — Uncle  Harry's  place  you  know.  And  Bobby 
came  for  a  week's  shooting — and  stopped  a  month !  It  was 
disgraceful  of  him,  and  I  am  sure  they  all  wished  he  would 

3 


34  AS   YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

go — we've  often  laughed  over  it  since  And  he  asked  me 
to  marry  him  in  a  turnip  field — could  anything  be  more 
prosaic?  Oh,  Nougat,  how  badly  men  do  propose,  and 
how  stupidly  they  can  make  love !  I  longed  to  be  a  man  just 
for  five  minutes  to  show  Bobby  how  to  do  it ! " 

" Chiffon !— and  is  that  all?" 

"  Yes,  all — except  that  it  is  ver)'  nice  being  a  Countess ! 
It  really  is — I  don't  mind  telling  you  the  truth !  " 

The  honesty  of  the  blue  eyes  was  irresistible.  Patricia 
laid  her  hand  caressingly  on  the  pretty  ankle  peeping  below 
the  short  skirts  and  the  frills  that  seemed  indivisible  from 
Chififon. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  it  is  !  "  she  said  calmly.  "  In  fact  I  am 
dying  of  envy  of  you — can't  you  see  it  through  my  thin  dis- 
guise of  pretended  rectitude?  If  the  Duke  of  London  were 
only  unmarried !  " 

"  The  dear  old  Duke !     Where  did  you  meet  him  ?  " 

"  Only  the  other  night,  when  we  had  what  threatened  to 
be  a  stupid  dinner  of  people  who  were  all  so  connected 
with  each  other  that  one  could  not  breathe  a  name  and  not 
be  rude.  I  fixed  my  eyes  upon  the  menu,  and  talked 
agriculture,  or  cattle  farming,  or  preserving,  just  as  the 
courses  suggested  to  my  mind.  It  was  really  the  only  safe 
way  to  steer  clear  of  family  ties." 

"Isn't  it  dreadful!  I  get  Bobby  to  warn  me  sometimes 
when  we  are  dining  out.  But  you  know  three  pages  of 
Burke  will  give  you  some  idea  of  the  hopeless  tangle  all 
the  big  families  are  in.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  who  is  not 
a  cousin  of  ours  in  a  distant  degree — Howards,  and  Ben- 
tincks,  and  Cavendishes  and  Manners!  But  what  about  the 
Duke?" 

"  I  sat  next  to  him  by  favour  of  my  good  genius,  and  fell 
madly  in  love.  We  liked  each  other  'right  away,'  as  the 
Americans  say,  and  on  the  strength  of  the  inevitable  relation- 
ship I  am  going  to  have  tea  with  him  some  day  when  he  is 
well  enough — his  chambers  are  all  but  next  door  to  us,  you 
know." 

"Poor  old  darling!  he  is  delightful,  isn't  he?  Somehow" 
— Chiffon  wrinkled  a  pretty  forehead — "  he  is  quite  a  different 
stamp  to  the  younger  men,  even  of  his  own  family.  He 
seems  as  if  he  belongs  to  another  race  of  beings."  \ 

"  He  belongs  to  the  old  Aristocracy  that  Aunt  Helen  knew.* 


AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN.  35 

Of  course  there  may  be  a  certain  set  that  keep  to  such 
traditions  even  now,  but  as  my  mother  does  not  happen  to 
affect  them,  they  might  be  inhabitants  of  Mars  for  all  they 
enter  our  circle !  The  Duke  is  the  only  person  I  have  en- 
countered who  strikes  me  as  being  a  nobleman  because  he 
cannot  help  it,  and  feeling  it  incumbent  on  him  to  be  a 
gentleman  also — under  the  circumstances.  The  rest  are — 
well,  what  are  they,  I  wonder?" 

"Lady  Vera  is  a  very  smart  woman  you  know.  Nougat! 
And  she  is  always  in  the  front  of  things." 

"Yes."  There  was  neither  denial  nor  assent  in  the  mono- 
syllable. It  would  appear  that  the  acknowledged  rapidity 
and  advance  of  Lady  Vera  Mornington's  circle  did  not 
interest  her  daughter.  At  all  events  she  did  not  discuss  it. 
She  went  back  quietly  to  the  subject  of  the  Duke. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  I  have  not  met  the  Duke  until  now !  Just 
think — I  have  been  in  London  nearly  three  months,  and 
have  not  had  the  luck  to  know  him  until  the  other  night. 
I  did  my  best  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  certainly!  " 

"  I  am  so  sorry  for  the  man  who  took  you  in !  It  could 
not  of  course  have  been  the  Duke — who  was  it?" 

"  Caryl  Lexiter — another  connection,  of  course !  Do  you 
know  him?  But  no  doubt  you  do.  I  have  not  met  a  single 
woman  yet  who  did  not  know  him  well  enough  to  call  him 
Car!" 

"Yes,  I  know  him;  but  I  don't  call  him  Car!  "  said  Lady 
Harbinger  lightly.  She  was  not  looking  at  Patricia  now, 
but  was  twisting  the  half  hoop  of  diamonds  round  and  round 
her  finger,  and  the  broad  wedding  ring  that  was  too  loose 
without  a  guard.  "We  were  yachting  with  him  last  year — 
on  Mr.  Carberry's  yacht.  I  suppose  you  see  a  good  deal 
of  Mr.   Lexiter?" 

"  Indeed  we  do !  He  is  like  a  tame  cat  about  the  house. 
I  think  I  found  him  purring  on  the  hearthrug  from  the  first 
day  I  set  foot  in  it.  He  does  not  trouble  me  at  all,  in 
spite  of  his  emphatic  bodily  presence.  Perhaps  his  adapta- 
bility is  his  best  quality,  but  we  get  on  together  excellently 
because  neither  cares  a  straw  about  the  other." 

"  Even  to  neglect  at  the  dinner  table !  How  did  the  Duke 
behave?     I  believe  he  loathes  Mr.  Lexiter!" 

"  If  he  does  he  disguises  it  admirably.  Nothing  could  be 
sweeter  than  his  manner." 


36  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

"  Oh,  his  manners  are  always  perfect.  But  he  can  say  the 
most  bitterly  cynical  things !  " 

"  So  I  have  discovered.  But  they  were  the  sauce  piquante 
to  our  conversation.  He  amused  me  so  admirably  that  I 
discovered  how  bored  I  had  been  for  the  past  two  months 
at  least.  At  first  the  novelty  of  London  disguised  its  utterly 
wearisome  monotony.  By  the  way,  what  and  where  is  the 
Duchess?  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Nougat,  she  is  a  fat  woman  with  a  devil 
of  energy  in  her,  which  finds  expression  in  innumerable 
charities!  She  spends  almost  all  her  time  at  Hyde — their 
big  place  down  in  Dorsetshire,  where  the  Duke  never  goes 
if  he  can  help  it.  I  am  afraid  that  with  all  his  virtues  he 
is  not  a  model  landowner !  " 

"  He  told  me  that  the  damp  at  Hyde  nearly  killed  him — 
he  was  never  out  of  pain,"  said  Patricia  quietly.  "  One 
understood.     Well  ?  " 

"Well?  Oh,  the  Duchess.  Well,  she  lives  at  Hyde 
practically,  and  the  Duke  has  his  chambers  in  Piccadilly. 
They  are  perfectly  friendly,  and  his  courtesy  to  her  is  the 
most  charming  thing  I  ever  saw!  But  he  always  gives  me 
the  impression  of  being  immensely  relieved  when  she  rushes 
back  to  Hyde  to  get  up  a  Young  Woman's  Laundry  Mission, 
or  a  Children's  Kindergarten  Industry,  or  something  of  that 
sort." 

"She  is  fat,  is  she!"  said  Patricia  thoughtfully.  "The 
Duke  said  the  other  night  that  fat  women  were  like  cottages 
— they  got  in  the  way  and  obstructed  the  view.  Don't  you 
know  how  a  cottage  may  spoil  a  landscape  ?  It  was  old  Lady 
Harley  who  made  him  so  angry — he  wanted  to  point  out 
something  to  me  on  the  staircase,  and  she  was  mounting  in 
front  of  us.  '  That  stout  lady ' — I  began.  '  That  it  not  a 
lady — it  is  a  cottage ! '  he  said  disgustedly.  And  then  fol- 
lowed his  explanation." 

"Well,  the  Duchess  is  stout  enough  for  two  cottages — 
she  is  a  detached  villa  in  her  own  grounds !  But  she  gets 
about  wonderfully,  in  spite  of  her  bulk,  and  she  is  quite  as 
active  mentally  as  physically.  I  cannot  fancy  her  supine. 
She  either  likes  a  thing  in  earnest  or  hates  it  in  earnest. 
There  are  several  things  that  she  hates — late  suppers,  and 
long  skirts,  and  above  all  she  hates  Lord  Lowndes  !  " 

"  He  is  a  friend  of  the  Duke's,  I  know,  but  I  have  only 


AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN.  37 

met  him  at  a  distance  as  yet.  '  My  friend  Lowndes  says,'  was 
a  favourite  axiom  of  the  Duke's.  When  one  man  uses 
another  as  a  reference  it  is  a  sure  sign  of  intimacy." 

"You  haven't  met  Lord  Lowndes?  Everyone  likes  him 
(except  the  Duchess)  but  not  so  much  as  they  do  the  Duke, 
I  don't  know  why  the  Duchess  hates  him  so,  but  I  think  it 
is  because  he  is  so  casual,  and  the  Duchess  must  be  serious. 
Lady  Vera  calls  her  the  strayed  County  Councillor,  and  says 
she  has  converted  Hyde  into  an  industrial  centre !  " 

Patricia  smiled  politely  as  one  might  at  a  laboured 
witticism.  It  was  noticeable  that  it  was  Chiffon  who  quoted 
Lady  Vera,  and  not  Lady  Vera's  daughter. 

"What  is  your  luncheon  hour,  Chiffon?"  she  said,  and 
perhaps  it  was  a  polite  divergence  from  the  subject.  "  I 
will  stay  to  luncheon  if  you  ask  me;  but  I  have  an  engage- 
ment soon  after.     I  told  the  motor  to  be  here  by  three." 

"  We  lunch  at  any  hour  we  please !  Two  for  choice,  and 
any  other  from  eleven  to  four  for  convenience.  Of  course 
you  must  stay  and  meet  Bobby."  She  jumped  off  the  divan 
and  rang  the  bell.  "  Come  up  to  the  nursery  and  see  Rosa- 
belle  while  they  are  getting  us  a  meal.  Oh,  Williams,  I  want 
lunch  at  once !     Is  Lord  Harbinger  in  ?  " 

"  No,  m'lady " — the  butler  always  answered  Lady  Har- 
binger's bell  himself.  "His  lordship  informed  me  that  he 
would  possibly  be  in  at  half-past  one !  " 

"Oh,  very  well;  we  won't  wait.  Williams  does  love  long 
words !  "  she  whispered,  as  she  piloted  her  friend  up  and 
down  the  long  London  house  until  they  reached  the  far-off 
nui  series.  Such  a  long  way  it  seemed  to  Nougat,  who 
wondered  if  the  convenience  of  being  out  of  earshot  of 
tears  or  laughter  reconciled  a  woman  to  banishing  her  babies 
to  a  noiseless  distance?  Up  two  flights  of  stairs,  and  down 
a  long  corridor,  and  then  through  swing  baize  doors,  which 
shut  off  the  prettiest  and  brightest  rooms  in  the  house. 
Chiffon  could  not  be  accused  of  neglecting  her  daughter, 
even  if  she  were  precious  of  her  own  and  her  husband's 
comfort.  The  wide  airy  nurseries  were  rosy  and  sunny  to 
see  and  to  smell — roses  on  the  walls,  rosy  ribbons  looping 
the  dainty  white  curtains,  roses  on  the  carpet,  a  big  bowl 
of  real  roses  on  the  table.  A  white-capped  nurse  appeared 
at  the  rustle  of  Chiffon's  entrance,  and  came  forward  smiling. 

"Lady  Rosabelle  is  asleep,"  she  said  in  a  pleasant  voice 


38  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

that  Patricia  liked.  There  would  be  no  lack  of  love  about 
a  little  child  with  this  woman  in  charge,  she  judged — ^though 
it  lived  at  the  furthest  side  of  the  house  from  its  parents! 
"  We  came  in  from  our  walk  an  hour  since,  and  she  was  so 
drowsy  with  the  heat  that  I  laid  her  down  to  sleep  it  off 
before  her  dinner." 

"  Quite  right,  nurse.  Children  can't  sleep  too  much,  I 
think !  "  Chiffon  added  to  Patricia  with  a  maternal  air  that 
suddenly  made  her  friend  want  to  laugh  and  cry  at  once. 
"We  won't  disturb  her;  but  I  must  show  her  to  Miss  Mom- 
ington." 

They  went  softly  through  an  archway  leading  into  a  further 
room,  and  there  in  a  rosy  cot — still  roses,  roses  everywhere, 
for  Chiffon's  daughter! — lay  a  three-year  old  baby,  the  most 
beautiful  thing  of  all  Chiffon's  manifold  possessions.  She 
was  a  tiny  miniature  of  Chiffon,  this  dimpled  mite  with  the 
closed  blue  eyes  that  Patricia  took  instinctively  on  trust,  and  the 
spun-gold  hair  flung  over  the  pillow.  She  bent  and  kissed  the 
silken  rings  of  hair  with  a  little  gasp  that  betrayed  a  feeling 
she  could  hardly  express.  Was  it  fear,  or  reverence,  or 
perhaps — as  she  glanced  at  Chiffon — disappointment?  Yet 
into  the  mother's  face  had  crept  a  tenderness  that  changed 
its  mischief  to  a  look  that  was  almost  as  angelic  as  the  child's. 

"Isn't  she  a  darling?"  she  whispered  to  Nougat,  in  an 
ecstasy.  "  And  you  don't  know  how  funny  and  sweet  she  is 
when  she  is  awake!  Bobby  and  I  adore  the  Rosebud — I 
wish  I  lived  in  less  of  a  rush,  that  I  could  see  more  of  her. 
But  I  never  seem  to  have  time."  She  drew  her  friend  away, 
adding,  "  Hush !  we  mustn't  wake  her.  I  never  let  her  sleep 
be  disturbed — even  when  people  are  here  and  want  to  see 
her,  I  won't  have  her  brought  down.  You  know  Editha 
Blais  Heron  always  has  her  poor  little  girl  dressed  up  and 
paraded  amongst  her  friends,  however  tired  and  cross  the 
child  gets.  And  she  lends  her  to  other  women  to  take  about 
with  them,  and  it's  ruining  Valerie's  nerves  and  making  her 
hatefully  precocious." 

"  Lends  her !     What  on  earth  for !  " 

"  Oh,  to  look  picturesque,  I  suppose,  and  to  attract  at- 
tention. She  is  a  pretty  child  with  red  curls,  and  they  are 
always  dressing  her  up  and  having  her  photographed  and 
published  in  the  magazines.  She  has  been  bridesmaid  half 
a  dozen  times  already,  and  presented  bouquets  to  Royalties 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  39 

at  the  opening  of  Bazaars,  and  been  paraded  until  she  has 
learned  to  try  to  say  funny  things  for  effect,  to  make  people 
laugh.  And  she  is  only  seven  or  eight!  Come  down  now 
and  be  introduced  to  Bobby." 

Lord  Harbinger  did  not  appear,  however,  until  luncheon 
was  half  through.  Patricia's  acquaintance  with  her  friend's 
husband  had  been  a  passing  view  across  crowded  rooms,  and 
once  on  the  box-seat  of  his  own  coach,  up  to  this  moment; 
but  if  he  were  a  greater  shock  than  the  remoteness  of 
Chiffon's  nursery,  nothing  in  her  very  charming  manner  of 
greeting  could  have  betrayed  it.  In  appearance,  Lord  Har- 
binger was  round  and  ruddy,  his  face  rather  like  that  of  a 
clean  pig,  with  little  twinkling  eyes  and  a  clean-shaven  chin 
which  he  had  a  habit  of  scratching.  He  was  nearly  fifty 
in  years,  according  to  the  ruthless  pages  of  Burke,  but  he 
looked  much  younger  than  that,  except  at  four  in  the  morn- 
ing, when  he  looked  considerably  older.  He  was  rather  like 
a  sheepish  schoolboy  at  the  first  startled  glance,  an  impres- 
sion deepened  by  his  vocabulary,  which  appeared  to  be 
limited  to  two  words — rotten  and  ripping.  He  knew  no  finer 
degree  of  description.  If  a  thing  were  to  his  taste  it  was 
ripping,   if  not,  it  was  rotten. 

Perhaps  a  faint,  ironical  image  of  the  beggar-lover  of  her 
school-days  lingered  in  Chiffon's  mind,  as  she  made  her 
husband  known  to  her  friend — the  beggar-lover,  who  was 
to  be  so  saucily  handsome,  so  quick-witted,  a  master  of 
adventure  and  final  success !  But  there  was  certainly  no 
reflection  of  him  in  Nougat's  as  she  addressed  the  reality. 
After  five  minutes  it  dawned  upon  Lady  Harbinger  that 
Nougat  had  no  more  difficulty  in  talking  to  her  husband, 
apparently,  than  she  had  had  in  talking  to  the  Duke  of  Lon- 
don, though  Lord  Harbinger's  contribution  to  the  conversa- 
tion was  little  more  than  his  creed — 

"  Rotten ! " 

"  Ripping ! " 

After  ten  minutes,  it  struck  Chiffon  that  Nougat's  manner 
was  something  more  than  merely  charming — it  was  a  gift  of 
the  gods,  it  was  genius.  To  many  women  it  is  granted  to 
make  their  audience  feel  that  they  are  delightful;  but  to 
Nougat  it  was  given  to  make  other  people  feel  themselves 
delightful,  and  Chiffon  gasped  a  little  at  the  revelation  of 
the  power  in  her  friend's  hands.     Why,  she  could  do  anything 


40  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

she  pleased  with  men  and  women,  by  the  fascination  of  that 
manner!  Her  face  and  figure  were  merely  beautiful;  other 
women  were  more  attractive,  but  her  manner  was  her  own. 
She  appeared  also  to  have  an  extraordinary  grip  of  a  range 
of  subjects  which  were  beyond  Chiffon's  ambition;  but 
though  she  was  only  talking  horses,  and  the  shooting  season, 
and  the  money  market,  in  turn,  as  a  sporting  woman  might 
have  done,  she  was  endowing  them  all  with  a  personal  bril- 
liance that  made  Lord  Harbinger's  vacant  face  almost  intel- 
ligently interested. 

"What  a  godsend  if  she  can  talk  to  Bobby  like  that,  and 
distract  him  sometimes  when  I'm — er — when  I'm  busy !  " 
thought  Bobby's  wife,  seeing  her  guest  rise  to  depart  with 
real  regret.  "  You  dear  person !  "  she  said  aloud,  standing 
almost  on  tiptoe  to  kiss  Miss  Mornington's  soft  cheek. 
"  Why  must  you  hurry  ?     It's  a  very  early  engagement !  " 

"  I  want  to  get  down  to  Sunnington,"  explained  Nougat. 
"And  it  is  past  three  already.  Is  the  motor  here?  Ah, 
thank  you !  "  for  the  footman  was  murmuring  its  announce- 
ment. "Lord  Harbinger,  do  you  think  I  shall  be  there 
before  four  ?  " 

Lord  Harbinger  expressed  an  unwontedly  long  opinion 
that  she  ought  to  do  it  in  half  an  hour,  if  her  car  had  any 
speed.  What  was  it?  A  Du  Barrie?  Yes  a  Du  Barrie, 
certainly,  said  Patricia,  but  she  did  not  drive  herself — it 
was  a  landaurette,  and  her  own  carriage.  "  We  have  a  long- 
distance car,  which  my  mother  drives  herself,"  she  explained 
laughing.  "But  when  it  came  to  my  choice,  I  preferred 
electricity  to  petrol,  and  not  to  have  to  make  my  arms  ache 
with  those  wretched  handles !  The  Du  Barries  are  the  best 
for  town  work,  and  I  have  no  ambition  to  rush  into  distant 
counties  at  forty  miles  an  hour  on  my  own  account." 

Lord  Harbinger  gravely  agreed  as  to  the  desirability  of 
electricity  in  London — he  had  seen  Patricia's  type  of  carriage 
at  the  Motor  Show,  and  it  was  ripping.  He  would  come 
out  and  look  at  it — thought  of  getting  a  Du  Barrie  himself, 
for  Chiffon.  All  others  were  rotten!  Chiffon,  waiting  to 
ask  a  question,  grew  half  desperate,  and  wished  he  would  go. 

"Where  is  Sunnington,  Nougat?  And  who  do  you  know 
there?" 

"  Sunnington  is  a  suburb  on  the  river,  down  below  Hamp- 
ton Court.     I  made  friends  with  some  people  I  much  liked. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  41 

two  years  ago  in  Madeira,  and  have  kept  in  touch  with  them 
ever  since.  I  am  going  down  to  see  them  today — they  live 
in  Sunnington." 

"  But  they  must  be  terribly  out  of  things — even  though  one 
does  fly  about  a  great  deal  nowadays.  So  few  people  motor 
only  to  the  suburbs — they  like  going  long  distances." 

"  I  don't  fancy  that  my  friends  care  to  be  in  things,  in 
that  sense,  even  if  they  could.  They  live  at  Sunnington 
because  Mr.  Leroy  likes  to  get  into  fresh  air  after  his  work 
is  done;  he  is  in  Somerset  House."  A  little  twinkle  rose 
in  the  cool  depths  of  Patricia's  wonderful  brown  eyes.  She 
seemed  really  amused  at  a  reminiscence.  "They  belong  to 
the  upper  Middle  Class — according  to  my  mother's  descrij> 
tion,"  she  said  drily.  » 

"  Oh !  "  said  Chiffon,  a  little  blankly.  "  Do  you  know  I 
always  connect  the  upper  Middle  Class  with  the  skaters  who 
go  to  Prince's  on  Sunday,  during  the  Winter?  I  could  show 
you  plenty  of  the  upper  Middle  Class  there — dreadful  people, 
who  live  in  Bayswater,  and  have  a  lot  of  money  and  don't 
ever  use  their  brains  or  know  how  to  spend  it !  " 

"  In  my  experience  the  upper  Middle  Class  are  better 
educated  nowadays  than  any  other,  as  far  as  I  can  see,"  said 
Nougat,  smiling.  "  Partly,  I  suppose,  because  their  educa- 
tion is  by  personal  effort,  and  goes  on  long  after  they  leave 
school,  and  is,  in  consequence,  cultivation  rather  than  educa- 
tion. I  met  plenty  of  them  travelling  about  Europe  with 
Aunt  Helen,  which  of  course  you  might  live  for  ever  in 
London  and  never  do.  They  have  their  own  world.  I  do 
not  think  they  have  really  the  least  ambition  towards  ours, 
either,  unless  they  are  the  lower  Middle  Class." 

"  How  funny !  "  Chiffon  said,  and  then  laughed.  "  I  dare- 
say you  are  right.  Nougat.  It  sounds  to  me  dreadful  to  live 
in  a  suburb  and  be  out  of  ever>'thing — ^not  even  to  have  a 
nice  house  right  in  the  country  where  people  will  motor 
down ! — ^but  I  daresay  there  are  some  very  charming  people 
there."  Chiffon  was  always  generous.  "  The  worst  of  it  is, 
one  never  has  time  for  all  the  people  one  would  really  like 
to  know." 

"That  is  where  we  differ,  then,"  said  Nougat,  serenely,  as 
she  shook  hands  with  Lord  Harbinger.  "I  am  beginning  to 
find  that  I  have  no  time  for  the  people  I  really  don't  care 
to  know!" 


42  AS   YE    HAVE  SOWN. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  philosophy,  Bobby  ? "  said 
Chiffon  a  trifle  drily,  as  she  strolled  with  her  husband  into 
the  smoking-room,  "I  cannot  fancy  it  entering  into  our 
lives.     Can  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  rotten !  "  said  Lord  Harbinger  succinctly. 

"  And  what  did  you  think  of  Nougat  ?  To  my  mind,  she 
is  the  most  beautifully  built  woman  I  ever  sawi  Now  isn't 
she  nice?"  ^ 

"  Oh,  ripping !  "  said  Lord  Harbinger. 


43 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  Leave  one  Ideal  without  speck, — 

Grant  us  one  Love  that  has  not  stung,      _^ 
A  few  Faiths,  God,  saved  from  the  wreck 
While  we  are  young  !  " 

Cry  Aloud. 

Phlumpie  sat  at  the  gate  and  saw  the  world  go  by  through 
safe  iron  bars,  from  behind  which  he  bUnked  with  pale, 
gooseberry  eyes  at  the  fiercest  dog,  and  hardly  ruffled  a  single 
white  hair  for  all  their  frantic  barking.  Behind  him  the  path 
ran  up  to  the  little  porch  where  the  Leroys  liked  to  sit  after 
dinner,  and  then,  turning  to  the  left,  disappeared  into  the 
shrubbery,  and  emerged  again  to  run  cunningly  round  a  small 
plot  of  grass  and  a  big  pear  tree  that  never  grew  edible  pears. 
It  was  all  one  path,  for  it  divided  the  flower-border  from  the 
grass  plot,  and  on  it  Mrs.  Leroy  was  kneeling,  her  sleeves 
rolled  up  and  her  gown  pinned  thriftily  away,  while  she 
wrestled  with  the  planting  out  of  a  sickly  geranium  and  tried 
in  vain  to  turn  the  baked  earth  with  a  trowel.  It  was,  of 
course,  an  absurd  time  of  year  for  planting  out,  but  she  was 
a  young  gardener  and  more  earnest  than  experienced.  Leroy 
and  his  wife  laboured  with  the  strip  of  ground  behind  their 
house  as  though  they  meant  it  to  blossom  like  the  proverbial 
wilderness ;  but  it  rarely  did  more  than  provide  them  with 
manual  exercise  and  a  long  bill  for  seeds. 

Phlumpie  had  started  the  afternoon  by  accompanying  his 
mistress  into  the  garden  and  saying  that  he  meant  to  help. 
But  his  artful  intention  was  evidently  a  sun-warmed  and 
earthy  bed,  for  every  time  that  Mrs.  Leroy  laboriously  dug  a 
hole — literally  by  the  sweat  of  her  brow — he  lay  down  in  it 


44  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

and  rolled.  After  being  gently  but  firmly  removed  for  the  fifth 
time  he  shook  his  loose  white  coat  like  a  discontented  dog 
and  betook  himself  to  the  gate  to  sulk.  Mrs.  Leroy  knew 
that  she  had  offended  his  dignity,  and  did  not  expect  him 
back  until  his  master  arrived,  when  he  was  sure  to  come  in 
for  his  tea  (which  was  milk) ;  she  was  therefore  rather  sur- 
prised when  he  came  trotting  hurriedly  back  to  her  with  an 
air  of  disturbance  which  suggested  that  the  trot  had  been  a 
scamper  at  first,  and  that  something  or  somebody  had  driven 
him  from  the  gate.  She  had  heard  no  roll  of  wheels,  and  it 
did  not  occur  to  her  that  a  rubber-tyred  motor  carriage  was 
just  as  much  a  monster  to  Phlumpie  as  if  it  had  been  a  noisy 
one.  The  first  intimation  of  a  visitor  that  she  received  was 
her  maid  bringing  her  a  card. 

"  Patricia  Mornington. — Where  have  you  shown  her, 
Reynolds  ?  "  Mrs.  Leroy  asked,  turning  down  her  sleeves  and 
unpinning  her  gown.  It  was  so  customary  for  visitors  to  seek 
and  find  the  Leroys  in  their  garden  during  the  summer,  that 
she  half  expected  that  the  maid  was  bringing  Patricia  in  her 
wake. 

"  She  is  in  the  drawing-room,  ma'am." 

It  was  probably  Patricia's  gown  that  had  impressed 
Reynolds  with  a  feeling  that  she  was  a  guest  of  ceremony,  for 
though  she  dressed  with  simplicity  compared  to  other 
women  with  unlimited  means,  she  carried  a  certain  stamp 
upon  her  clothes  that  meant  money  spent,  albeit  it  was  well 
spent.  She  was  standing  at  the  window  when  Mrs.  Leroy 
entered  the  room,  looking  out  at  the  tangle  of  the  shrubbery, 
and  the  first  impression  she  gave  her  hostess  was  of  the 
beautiful  curve  of  her  hips  under  the  perfectly  cut  skirt,  the 
poise  of  her  head  and  shoulders,  and  the  burnished  coils  of 
hair  that  were  in  actual  truth 

"  In  gloss  and  hue  the  chestnut,  when  the  shell 
Divides  threefold  to  show  the  fruit  within." 

A  little  thrill  of  pleasure  went  through  Mrs.  Leroy  as  she 
locked  at  her  guest — the  thrill  that  always  gladdened  her  at 
sight  of  a  harmonious  or  beautiful  thing,  deepened  in  this 
case  by  the  pride  that  added :  "  She  is  my  countrywoman, 
and  she  is  ideally  English  !  " 

Patricia  turned  quickly  before  Fate  Leroy  got  out  a  word 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  45 

of  greeting,  and  came  to  meet  her  with  a  movement  that  was 
almost  nervous.  It  seemed  impossible  that  with  her  figure 
and  carriage  she  should  seem  anything  but  self-possessed,  and 
yet  the  swift  impulsive  advance  was  suggestive  of  uncer- 
tainty, and  the  straight  eager  look  into  Fate's  face  seemed  a 
trifle  anxious.  Then,  to  Mrs.  Leroy's  amazement,  she 
turned  very  white,  and  her  big  brown  eyes  brimmed  with 
tears. 

"  Oh,  Fate !  "  she  said  breathlessly,  and  her  voice  shook. 
"  I  began  to  be  afraid  that  you  would  be  changed  too,  or 
that  perhaps  my  memory  was  playing  me  false ! — but  you  are 
just  exactly  the  same." 

The  strange  relief,  to  which  she  had  not  the  clue,  was 
nevertheless  a  little  piteous  in  Mrs.  Leroy's  ears.  It  made 
her  remember  suddenly  that  the  girl  before  her  was  still 
living  the  sheltered,  unmarried  life  that  kept  her  a  girl  in 
spite  of  her  twenty-four  years,  and  told  her  somehow  that  the 
deep  frank  nature  she  had  so  much  liked  had  been  grievously 
mishandled  and  wounded.  She  felt  a  little  fierce  with  some- 
one or  something  that  she  could  not  name,  on  account  of 
Patricia,  almost  as  if  it  were  for  a  younger  sister,  or  her  own 
child. 

"  I  hope  I  am  not  at  all  changed,  dear — except  that  I  am 
two  years  older !  "  she  said  kindly,  still  meeting  the  anxiety 
in  the  brown  eyes.  Patricia's  eyes  were  the  same  shade  as 
her  hair,  not  opaque  like  so  many  dark  eyes,  but  clear  and 
very  liquid,  with  just  a  shade  of  red  in  them — the  real  colour 
of  a  horse-chestnut,  and  not  the  auburn,  or  yellow,  or  brick- 
dust-shade  of  a  chestnut  horse. 

"  No,  you  are  not  at  all  altered !  "  said  Miss  Mornington 
with  a  breath  that  was  almost  a  gasp  of  relief.  "  Fate,  do 
you  know  that  I  have  been  dreading  to  meet  you,  in  case 
even  you  should  have  become  like  an  unreality  to  me  ?  Since 
Aunt  Helen  died  I  seem  to  have  lived  in  a  bad  dream,  and 
perhaps  my  whole  nature  is  growing  warped,  but  everyone  I 
know  seems  to  me  to  ring  hollow.  Yes,  that  is  it,  I  suppose ! 
I  am  warped." 

"You  have  been  in  great  trouble,  and  it  has  jarred  your 
whole  universe,"  said  Fate  quietly.  "  A  loss  such  as  Lady 
Helen's  death  must  have  meant  to  you  throws  one's  very 
nature  off  its  balance,  I  think.  You  will  find  that  things 
right  themselves  again  in  time." 


46  AS  YE     HAVE  SOWN. 

"  I  have  lost  the  best  friend  I  ever  had  or  shall  have," 
said  Patricia  with  some  pent-up  feeling  beginning  to  stir  her 
voice.  "  The  only  friend  I  had,  as  I  am  beginning  to  realise. 
In  my  present  world  there  is  no  one — no,  not  one  person! 
— whom  I  can  call  a  friend  as  judged  by  the  touchstone  of 
plain-speaking.  1  mean  there  is  no  one  to  whom  I  should 
dare  to  tell  anything  about  myself.  Unless — it  is  you  ?  "  she 
added  wistfully,  the  colour  coming  prettily  to  her  face  and 
making  her  seem  much  younger  than  Mrs.  Leroy. 

"  Come  and  sit  down  and  tell  me  all  about  it,"  Fate  said 
quietly,  throwing  the  cushions  away  from  the  corners  of  the 
wide  sofa,  and  seating  herself.  "  You  know  I  always  feared 
that,  being  bound  up  in  each  other  as  you  and  Lady  Helen 
were,  you  must  suffer  all  the  more  when  she  died.  You  had 
a  fairly  large  circle  of  acquaintances,  you  went  about  a  good 
deal,  you  travelled — but  your  world  began  and  ended  in  each 
other." 

"  She  was  a  good  woman !  "  Patricia  said  after  a  minute's 
pause,  in  a  strange  halting  voice.  "  I  know  she  had  faults 
— she  was  very  proud  in  her  own  way,  and  very  haughty. 
She  was  obstinate,  and  passionate  in  temper.  But  she  was, 
and  always  will  be,  my  ideal  of  kindness,  and  goodness,  and 
honour — she  was  a  gentlewoman.  There  are  none  like  her 
— there  are  no  such  women " — the  voice  grew  lower  and 
lower — "  in  my  present  world.  It  is  like  a  revolution  of 
everything  I  have  ever  known  or  been  taught!  I  am  be- 
wildered— I  cannot  even  speak  of  her,  there — it  is  like  speak- 
ing another  language.  You  are  the  first  person  to  whom  I 
have " 

The  voice  died  away.  Instead  of  it  there  was  a  panting 
sobbing  woman  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  and  all 
the  terrible  locked-up  grief  of  a  year  sweeping  her  with  its 
fury,  and  making  of  her  self-control  an  impotent  thing,  which 
was  terrifying  to  witness. 

Mrs.  Leroy's  first  glance  was  at  the  open  door,  which  she, 
quietly  rising,  closed ;  her  next  at  the  clock,  which  pointed 
to  ten  minutes  to  four.  Eldred  would  not  be  home  for  an 
hour  yet,  at  least — it  was  all  right,  there  was  time  for  con- 
fidences. She  sat  down  again  beside  her  guest,  and  finding 
that  Patricia  had  flung  aside  her  hat  she  drew  the  glossy 
brown  head  to  her  shoulder,  and  held  the  girl  close  to  her, 
restfuUy,  until  the  storm  was  past. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  47 

"Thank  you,"  whispered  Patricia  at  last.  "I  could  not 
help  it — I  felt  as  if  it  were  killing  me !  " 

In  her  secret  heart  Mrs.  Leroy  could  not  bear  to  see  people 
lose  their  self-control,  and  the  experience  was  due  to  a  side  of 
Patricia's  temperament  that  she  had  hardly  suspicioned  and 
with  which  she  could  not  have  sympathised ;  but  she  did 
appreciate  the  way  in  which  the  younger  woman  recovered 
her  grip  on  herself — which  was  training,  and  not  character — 
and  kept  her  arm  about  Patricia's  shoulders  after  she  sat  up. 

"  I  am  so  glad  it  happened  here — if  it  had  to  come,"  Mrs. 
Leroy  said  simply.  "  Tell  me  about  your  present  life, 
Patricia,  if  you  feel  that  you  can.  What  is  there  wrong 
about  it  ?  " 

"  There  is  everything  wrong  about  it.  But  some  of  that 
is  merely  external,  and  I  can  alter  it."  The  same  certainty 
of  herself  and  her  power  over  her  own  destiny  which  had 
made  Chiffon  wonder,  was  in  her  manner  now ;  but  Mrs. 
Leroy  understood  and  was  attracted  by  it.  "  One  makes 
one's  own  world,  of  course.  But  the  shock  came  in  finding 
everything  so  hideously  unlike  what  I  had  pictured.  You 
see  I  had  next  to  no  idea  of  what  my  own  home  and  family 
were  like — it  sounds  impossible,  does  it  not?  I  knew  that 
Aunt  Helen  did  not  like  my  mother,  and  I  thought  I  knew 
why  after  she  came  to  see  me  a  few  times  at  St.  Clare.  We 
never  discussed  her — it  was  a  sealed  subject  between  us. 
But  of  course  until  one  lives  with  people " 

"  I  see,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy  inclusively.  "  Have  you  abso' 
lately  nothing  in  common  with  Lady  Vera?" 

"  I  hope  not !  " 

The  quick,  haughty  rejoinder — made  before  Patricia  could 
catch  herself  up — was  so  much  a  reflex  of  Lady  Helen  Chil- 
cote  that  Fate  almost  smiled.  One  cannot  live  for  twenty 
years  admiring  and  almost  worshipping  a  strong  personality, 
imbibing  the  same  tenets,  looking  at  life  from  the  same 
standpoint,  without  attaining  a  certain  resemblance. 
Patricia  was  not  really  like  her  godmother  either  in  mind  or 
character ;  but  she  had  grown  so  to  some  extent  by  constant 
association. 

"  Well,  what,  if  you  do  not  mind  telling  me,  makes  you  say 
that?" 

"  I  suppose  you  think  that  I  ought  not  to  have  said  it — 
nor  ought  I,  to  be  in  strict  good  taste.     But  having  said  so 


48  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

much  I  will  treat  you  as  the  friend  to  whom  I  can  speak 
plainly,  and  give  you  my  confidence  regardless  of  good 
manners.  It  is  because  Lady  Vera  is  a  very  ill-bred  woman, 
in  my  opinion,  and  would  be  so  were  she  twice  my  mother ! 
She  is  self-indulgent,  utterly  uncontrolled,  and  she  can  dis- 
guise neither  her  temper  nor  her  appetites  though  for  her 
own  advantage.  She  is  loud,  and  slangy,  and  chooses  her 
associates  for  no  reason  that  I  can  see  except  that  they  dress 
very  extravagantly,  and  live  as  no  gentlewoman  could  pos- 
sibly do.  I  have  allowed  her  to  parade  me  and  rush  about 
with  me  amongst  these  people  for  three  months,  to  make  me 
quite  sure  before  I  judged.  For  the  future  I  shall  have 
little  to  do  with  either  my  mother  or  her  friends,  I  hope. 
We  have  nothing  at  all  in  common !  " 

She  had  begun  almost  passionately,  in  her  bitterness  and 
disappointment  with  her  life;  but  the  ending  of  her  tirade 
was  characteristic  of  Patricia  Mornington  far  more  than  the 
impetuosity,  though   it  might   be  an   acquired  control.     "  I 

allowed    her  to  parade   me    for   three    months to 

make  me  quite  sure  before  I  judged !  "  Fate  Leroy  read 
the  deep  slow  nature  with  its  tenacious  hold  on  life  in  this. 
Patricia  was  not  quick  of  brain  or  temper,  though  her  pas- 
sions once  roused  might  be  a  violent  inheritance ;  her  worst 
fault  was  her  slowness  to  forgive,  her  long  power  of  resent- 
ment. She  gave  temperate,  deliberate  judgment;  but  once 
condemning,  she  meted  out  punishment  without  hope  of 
mercy.     "  That  I  might  be  quite  sure !  "  she  said. 

The  most  contemptuous  note  in  her  voice  was  struck  when 
she  mentioned  Lady  Vera's  lack  of  self-control,  for  Patricia 
had  been  taught  to  rule  herself  from  a  child,  and  in  learning 
that  most  difficult  lesson  she  seemed  to  have  almost  lost  the 
capacity  to  sympathise  with  a  quicker  and  more  fiery  nature 
which  did  not  rule  its  spirit. 

"  I  have  been  finding  all  this  out  ever  since  last  November, 
when  Aunt  Helen  died,"  she  explained.  "  Indeed,  I  am  not 
speaking  in  a  hurry.  I  have  never  said  a  word  of  criticism 
on  them  until  to-day.  To-day  " — she  hesitated  and  faltered 
— "  I  had  the  last  shock  of  disappointment,  and  I  think  it 
broke  me  down." 

"Yes?" 

"  I  went  to  see  a  school  friend  who  married  soon  after  we 
left  the  Convent.     I  had  been  clinging  to  the  hope  of  finding 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  49 

her  unchanged — of  course  it  was  silly  of  me,  after  all  the 
rest — or  at  least  of  finding  a  companion  in  her.  I  looked 
for  the  old  Chiffon  to  confide  in " 

"  And  she  is  changed  too  ?  " 

"  She  married  at  nineteen.  Before  that  she  was  just  an 
undeveloped  girl,  full  of  possibilities.  Why  do  they  fling 
us  into  the  marriage  market  as  children,  and  leave  some  man 
of  whom  they  know  nothing  to  finish  educating  and  develop- 
ing us  ?     Chiffon  had  no  chance,  I  suppose." 

"  How  awfully  thankful  you  must  be  that  you  had ! "  was 
Mrs.  Leroy's  comment.  "The  Jesuits  say  that  if  you  will 
give  them  the  first  six  years  of  a  child's  life  you  may  take 
him  away  afterwards  and  do  what  you  will  with  him — but 
you  will  never  eradicate  their  influence.  You  were  saved 
from  bad  training  as  if  by  a  miracle,  and  you  had  Lady 
Helen's  clean,  well-bred  atmosphere  about  you  until  you 
were  a  woman  with  a  character  of  your  own  that  could  not 
be  remoulded." 

There  was  a  little  pause,  and  then  Patricia  said :  "  Poor 
little  Chiffon  !  "  in  a  different  tone.  The  scornful  hardness 
had  gone  out  of  her  voice,  and  instead  of  sitting  in  judgment 
she  was  remembering  to  be  grateful  for  what  she  felt  a  de- 
liverance. "  She  thinks  herself  quite  an  enviable  person  you 
know,  Fate — she  has  married  Lord  Harbinger,  and  that  fact 
has  enclosed  her  existence.  She  told  me  several  times  that 
she  had  no  time  for  the  things  she  wanted  to  do.  Can  you 
conceive  of  such  an  absurd  bondage?  If  it  were  a  duty  in 
any  way  one  could  honour  it — but  they  none  of  them  ever 
pretend  that  it  is  that.  They  just  go  on  living  in  a  certain 
narrow  groove  because  they  found  it  waiting  for  them  after 
their  presentation.  The  Society  woman  as  recently  intro- 
duced to  me  reminds  me  of  nothing  so  much  as  a  hen— 
don't  you  know  that  old  trick  of  laying  a  hen's  beak  down 
on  a  board  and  drawing  a  chalk  line  from  it?  The  bird 
really  will  not  stir.  I  suppose  what  mind  it  has  is  paralysed 
by  the  chalk  line." 

Mrs.  Leroy  gave  a  little  soft  laugh  that  was  half  a 
sigh,  "  Do  you  know  you  strike  me  as  rather  fierce  ? "  she 
suggested.  "  After  all,  your  friend  Lady  Harbinger  may 
find  plenty  of  happiness  in  her  husband  and  her  visiting 
list." 

"  If  happiness  were   everything,"  said   Patricia  struggling 

4 


50  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

with  a  conviction  too  deep  to  find  easy  expression,  "  I  should 
say  there  was  no  fear  for  Chiffon.  She  is  very  happy,  1 
believe,  in  an  entirely  surface  manner.     But  you  see — you 

see — we  were  friends to  talk  to  her  now  is  exactly 

like  conversing  with  a  husk.  I  felt  myself  catching  the  in- 
fection, and  taking  my  colour  from  her  atmosphere.  I  also 
was  a  husk." 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  were  chameleon,  rather.  Has  she 
children  ?  " 

"  One — it  is  three  years  old.  We  only  saw  it  asleep,  and 
she  prides  herself  on  the  fact  that  she  does  not  lend  it  out 
to  other  women  to  the  detriment  of  its  health,  because  they 
like  to  pose  as  domestic  characters.  Picturesque  children 
seem  to  be  a  momentary  fashion,  and  are  taken  about  like 
the  last  breed  of  small  dogs !  "  Patricia  spoke  briefly,  and 
turned  her  face  a  trifle  away  from  Mrs.  Leroy.  "  But  I 
think  if  Chiffon  saw  more  of  her  daughter  that  I  should  find 
her  just  the  same,  somehow.  For  a  minute,  as  she  looked 
at  the  child,  I — envied  her!  It  must  be  such  a  wonderful 
thing  to  be  a  mother." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  little  or  no  sympathy  with  the  lauding 
of  the  maternal  virtue  above  all  others,"  said  Fate  decidedly. 
"Wives,  for  instance,  who  will  neglect  their  husbands  for 
their  children  are  simply  displaying  an  animal  instinct  in 
which  I  can  see  nothing  fine.  They  are  cat-women.  Any 
cat  will  lick  its  kittens !  " 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Patricia,  opening  her  brown  eyes  a 
little  wider,  and  with  a  slight  hesitation,  "  I  always  thought 
you  the  most  maternal  woman  I  ever  met!  I  do  hope  you 
are  not  offended." 

"  So  I  am  in  a  sense — only  I  lavish  it  all  on  my  husband. 
It  is  not  because  I  have  no  children  that  I  condemn  the  ultra 
maternal  woman,  really.  But  the  feeling  seems  to  me  too  in- 
evitable to  admire,  and  it  is  generally  the  excuse  for  pushing 
the  husband  on  one  side — when  you  are  tired  of  him.  The 
children  are  newer.     Women  like  new  toys !  " 

"  Now  it  is  you  who  are  fierce !  "  alleged  Patricia,  with  a 
more  natural  note  in  her  voice.  The  hardness  had  quite 
gone  for  the  moment,  and  the  tears  had  dried  in  her  eyes. 
She  was  just  a  beautiful  woman,  beautifully  dressed,  and 
unconscious  of  herself  because  quite  sure  at  the  root  of  her 
being  that  she  fulfilled  her  own  fleshly  ideal  at  least.     Mrs. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  51 

Leroy  looked  at  her  with  open  delight.  She  had  a  most 
fastidious  dislike  of  unfeminine  ugliness. 

"  You  seem  to  have  disposed  of  all  the  women  in  your 
present  world,"  she  remarked  with  her  wise  smile.  "  Now, 
what  of  the  men  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Patricia,  with  a  frank  laugh,  "  if  they  are 
not  gluttons  they  are  generally  gamblers,  and  as  they  are 
mostly  my  relations  it  would  be  invidious  to  say  more.  It 
is  a  narrow  world  that  I  have  stepped  into  1  It  consists,  as 
far  as  I  can  see,  of  infinite  circles  which  always  overlap  at 
one  point,  the  nucleus  of  each  being  a  house  and  its  connec- 
tions. One  family  intermarries  with  another,  and  thus  one 
circle  overlaps  another ;  but,  in  the  main,  English  people  are 
more  divided  into  clans,  or  tribes,  than  savages  1  The  only 
relief  is  afforded  by  a  foreign  connection,  which  breaks  the 
insular  chain.  But  no  one  seems  to  have  been  kind  enough 
to  have  married  an  American  heiress  in  our  family.  My 
mother's  visiting  list,  I  suppose,  includes  some  four  or  five 
hundred  people.  At  least  I  believe  that  when  we  give 
parties  we  invite  about  that  number.  But  our  intimate 
friends,  who  over-run  the  house  at  all  seasons,  are  about 
twenty  or  thirty.  I  can  think  of  ten  or  eleven  men  at  the 
present  moment,  any  of  whom  may  dine  or  lunch  chez  nous 
at  any  time,  and  they  are  all  connections  of  the  house  of 
Blais." 

It  occurred  to  Mrs.  Leroy  that  Lady  Vera  Mornington 
must  have  clung  very  closely  to  her  own  family  after  mating 
with  more  common  red  blood,  and  that  the  family  had  prob- 
ably profited  by  the  wealthy  marriage.  But  it  was  a  point  of 
view  which  she  did  not  wish  to  insist  on  to  Patricia,  already 
goaded  out  of  her  habitual  reserve  by  the  anger  and  humilia- 
tion and  disgust  of  her  uncongenial  surroundings. 

"  And  do  none  of  them  interest  you  ? "  she  said,  with  a 
rather  amused  expression  in  her  very  grey  eyes. 

"  Yes — one !  "  said  Patricia  quickly.  "  A  tide  of  red  rose 
over  her  face  and  quickened  her  into  glowing  vitality.  She 
hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  spoke  hurriedly — more  hurriedly 
than  even  in  her  passionate  protest  against  the  lot  she  had 
inherited.  "  There  is  only  one  man  who  interests  me  in  my 
present  world — interests  me  absorbingly,  I  mean — and  that 
is  my  father.  And  he  will  have  none  of  me!  He  is  as 
courteous  as  anyone  I  meet  sociallv,  but  I  cannot  hold  his 

4* 


52  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

interest  for  five  minutes.  As  a  rule  I  can  make  men  like  me, 
Fate — at  the  worst  I  can  compel  their  notice.  But  not  my 
father's.  He  is  so  little  interested  in  me  that  beyond  making 
me  an  allowance  that  is  simply  like  wasting  money,  he  has 
never,  as  far  as  I  know,  asked  a  question  about  me,  or  my 
pursuits."  The  flush  deepened,  and  she  turned  her  brown 
eyes,  half  pained  and  half  resentful,  on  Mrs.  Leroy,  throw- 
ing up  her  chin  with  a  curbed  movement  that  was  char- 
acteristic. "  Why  does  he  treat  me  like  this  ? "  she  said 
almost  in  a  whisper.  "  We  are  of  one  blood — we  could  be 
sympathetic — ^we  might  be  friends.  He  is  the  only  person 
in  whom  I  could  find  a  companion  in  my  present  life,  and 
that  proves  our  affinity.  If  he  has  found  my  mother  and  all 
her  circle  aliens  to  himself,  which  T  can  understand,  he  might 
remember  that  I  have  his  blood  in  my  veins  as  well  as  hers ! 
I  am  not  at  all  a  Blais — I  am  very  much  of  a  Momington !  " 

Patricia's  simple  belief  in  the  genuineness  of  this  claim 
lent  a  conviction  to  her  statement,  and  Mrs.  Leroy,  knowing 
no  better,  accepted  it. 

"  There  may  be  something  of  which  you  know  nothing  that 
makes  you  a  part  of  the  bitterness,"  she  said.  "  The  very 
fact  of  your  having  been  brought  up  by  your  godmother 
suggests  a  quarrel  over  you,  does  it  not  ?  And  the  old  sore 
may  rankle  still.     Are  your  father  and  mother  friendly  ?  " 

"  They  live  at  opposite  ends  of  a  very  large  house ;  some- 
times they  do  not  encounter  each  other  for  days,  and  I  am 
sure  that  neither  knows  the  other's  engagements  nor  wishes 
to  interfere  with  them  in  any  way.  If  that  is  being  friendly 
— yes,  they  are  friends." 

"  At  least  they  do  not  quarrel  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  imagine  my  father  condescending  to  such  a 
thing.  He  is  rigidly  polite  to  his  wife — if  he  treated  me  like 
that  I  think  I  should  be  scorched  with  shame,  for  it  is  the 
very  acme  of  contempt,  whether  she  knows  it  or  not.  But 
as  far  as  I  go  he  is  merely  supremely  indifferent.  I  really 
think  he  hardly  realises  that  I  am  in  the  house.  When 
I  first  arrived  I  tried  by  every  means  in  my  power  to  get 
to  know  him,  and  it  was  exactly  like  walking  into  a  wall  of 
ice." 

**  Ice  will  melt !  "  remarked  Mrs.  Leroy  significantly.  "  I 
can  only  advise  patience.  I  do  not  believe  that  the  man 
exists  who  can  finally  combat  a  woman's  determination  when 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  53 

she  means  him  to  realise  her  attractions !  Can  you  not  melt 
the  ice  ?  " 

"  No,  because  I  should  get  frozen  before  I  succeeded !  It 
is  a  wall  of  ice — a  mountain — the  whole  North  Pole.  Do 
you  know,  I  think  I  descended  to  any  mean  little  subterfuge 
to  gain  his  attention,  for  a  time?  I  could  not  believe  my 
own  failure — a  little  humiliating,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  H'm !  I  think  it  is  rather  more  interesting.  Had  you 
ever  met  before  ?  I  mean,  of  course,  since  you  were  a  con- 
scious personality." 

"  Not  since  I  was  three  years  old,  when  he  himself  took  me 
to  Madeira,  and  placed  me  with  Aunt  Helen.  My  mother 
came  to  see  me  during  the  few  years  I  was  at  school  in  Paris, 
but  he  never  did.  We  were  utter  strangers — father  and 
daughter ! — when  I  was  introduced  to  him  in  his  own  dining- 
room." 

"The  situation  is  certainly  so  unique  as  to  sound  im- 
possible. It  must  be  a  most  uncomfortable  household — and 
yet  how  interesting ! "  All  the  activity  and  power  of  Mrs. 
Leroy's  brain  and  her  vivid  womanhood  flashed  for  an  instant 
into  her  grey  eyes.  She  had  never  found  a  situation  too 
difficult  for  her,  and  her  ingenuity  sometimes  went  hungry 
for  material  on  which  to  feed.  The  next  instant  the  expres- 
sion of  the  diplomat  or  the  detective  had  vanished,  swallowed 
in  a  purely  personal  interest,  for  her  trained  ears  had  caught 
a  step  coming  up  the  drive,  and  she  glanced  instinctively  at 
the  clock. 

"Excuse  me  a  moment,  Patricia,"  she  said.  "I  think  that 
may  be  Eldred.  I  will  tell  him  we  are  having  tea  in  here 
and  not  in  the  garden." 

The  little  excuse  for  withdrawing  had  a  double  motive 
that  Patricia  divined — to  give  her  guest  time  to  regain  her 
mask  of  everyday  ease,  and  to  greet  her  husband  unobserved. 
But  a  minute  later  she  returned  with  a  less  elastic  step,  and 
sat  down  to  pour  out  tea  as  if  a  trifle  disappointed. 

"  It  was  not  Eldred,"  she  explained.  "  It  was  only  a  very 
intimate  friend  of  ours — a  man  who  is  constantly  here,  and 
drops  in  in  this  unexpected  way.  I  have  told  him  to  join 
us. — Ah,  Gerald!  Come  in  and  have  tea.  Mr.  Vaughan, 
Miss  Mornington." 

There  was  just  the  faintest  spice  of  mischief  in  Fate's  mind 
as  she  made  Vaughan  known  to  his  bete  noire,  but  it  was  a 


54  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

joke  which  she  wished  that  Eldred  had  been  by  to  share. 
Miss  Mornington,  naturally,  was  blank  of  any  previous  im- 
pression of  Vaughan,  and  too  absorbed  in  her  own  revelations 
to  Fate  Leroy  to  be  very  sensitive  to  outside  interests  at  the 
moment.  She  looked  up  and  saw  a  tall  man  with  square 
shoulders,  and  what  she  thought  a  keen  and  rather  unsympa- 
thetic face.  His  hair  had  a  slight  reddish  tinge  she  thought 
— or  was  it  only  that  his  moustache  was  so  ? 

"  How  much  more  a  single  eyeglass  strikes  you  now  that 
they  are  not  general,"  thought  Patricia,  and  drank  her  tea  in 
silence,  leaving  the  conversation  to  her  hostess. 

Vaughan  sat  down  on  a  rickety  milk-stool  beside  the  tea 
table,  and  curled  his  long  legs  fondly  round  those  of  his 
support.  There  was  no  hint  of  anything  but  social  amenity 
in  his  perfectly  easy  manner,  save  to  Fate,  who  knew  him  so 
well  that  she  could  feel  the  hostility  in  his  attitude,  and  was 
more  and  more  entertained  by  it.  There  was  too  much  mis- 
chief in  Mrs.  Leroy  for  angelhood  at  present. 

"  I  have  been  gardening,  Gerald,"  she  said  as  a  little 
prologue  to  drawing  two  unconscious  foes  together.  "  And 
Miss  Mornington  arrived  to  find  me  very  dirty  and  dis- 
heartened. The  geraniums  will  not  disport  themselves 
properly." 

"  I  should  think  not  at  this  time  of  the  year !  What  on 
earth  induced  you  to  transplant  them  until  next  Spring,  no 
one  but  a  daughter  of  Eve  could  tell."  Vaughan's  tone 
betrayed  a  smothered  aggravation  through  the  characteristic 
croak.  "  Feminine  nature  has  always  played  havoc  in  a 
Garden  from  the  days  of  Eden  !  " 

"  Well,  I  felt  very  virtuous  at  least.  I  am  sure  it  is  good 
for  me  to  dig." 

"  It  would  do  you  much  more  good  to  take  a  walk  into  the 
country.  If  I  lived  in  Sunnington,  I  should  pack  my  wallet 
every  day  and  lunch  in  a  field." 

"  But,  my  dear  Gerald,  I  can't  go  for  country  walks  alone ! 
I  should  be  terrified.     And  I  might  meet  a  tramp !  " 

"  Well,  he  wouldn't  hurt  you  if  you  did !  Don't  be  so 
feminine.  You  could  say  '  Oh  fair  tramp,  I  have  too  much 
bread  and  cheese,  and  this  flagon  of  wine ;  but  come  thou 
with  me  and  we  will  sit  on  the  ground  and  lunch  together  1 ' 
His  conversation  might  not  be  polished,  but  it  would  surely 
be  very  interesting." 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  55 

Patricia  suddenly  became  aware  that  she  was  laughing.  A 
vision  of  Mrs.  Leroy  in  her  graceful  gown  sitting  in  a  field 
and  eating  bread  and  cheese  with  a  tramp  was  too  much  for 
her  sense  of  humour.  She  looked  anew  at  Vaughan ;  but 
he  was  not  looking  at  her.  Beyond  the  common  courtesy 
of  handing  her  bread  and  butter  and  attending  to  her  teacup, 
he  had  directed  all  his  conversation  and  attention  to  his 
hostess,  and  Patricia's  heart  suddenly  sank.  Her  large, 
comprehensive  eyes  looked  covertly  from  one  face  to  the 
other,  and  by  the  light  of  all  the  sordid  life  they  had  known 
of  late  they  feared  another  lost  ideal.  There  was  nothing 
to  see  save  a  fair  woman  sitting  by  a  tea-table,  and  a  man 
with  a  certain  charm  of  personality,  who  was  not  her  husband, 
but  who  watched  her.  Patricia  was  surprised  at  herself  for 
deciding  that  this  unknown  man  had  a  charm,  but  her  senses 
were  suddenly  sharpened  by  fear. 

Mrs.  Leroy  was  laughing  over  the  absurdity  of  the  tramp 
theory.  "  He  would  eat  all  the  lunch,  and  then  murder 
me  !  "  she  protested.  "  I  don't  think  I  was  made  for  country 
walks." 

"  You  probably  mean  that  your  shoes  were  not !  "  said 
Vaughan  viciously.  For  all  his  apparent  unconsciousness  of 
Miss  Mornington,  her  presence  was  acting  upon  him  as 
sharply  as  the  prick  of  one  of  his  own  electric  currents  on  his 
skin.  As  he  had  said,  her  prosperity  was  an  offence  to  him, 
and  he  was  far  too  finely  balanced  an  organisation  to  possess 
a  level  judgment.  Perhaps  there  was  something  to  be  pleaded 
against  Patricia  Mornington  also.  Never  had  her  charm  of 
manner  been  less  perceptible  than  at  the  present  moment; 
she  appeared  indeed  to  be  stricken  dumb,  and  her  contribu- 
tion to  the  conversation  was  at  best  monosyllables  or  plati- 
tudes. Her  material  beauty  was  still  undeniable,  but  a 
mental  discomfort  was  presenting  her  at  a  marked  disadvan- 
tage, and  it  was  a  curious  fact  that  Mrs.  Leroy's  companion- 
ship stole  something  of  maturity  from  her.  She  was  never 
so  young  as  in  association  with  Fate,  and  in  general  she 
gained  a  simplicity  that  compensated  for  the  loss ;  but  to-day 
she  was  merely  a  rather  dumb  young  person,  perfectly  gowned, 
and  perfectly  beautiful — a  well-bred  animal  in  fact,  devoid 
of  character.  Her  home  circle  would  not  have  recognised 
her. 

"  I  really  ought  to  be  going  home,"  she  said  at  last,  rising 


56  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

in  quite  a  leisurely  fashion,  and  apparently  only  recalled  to 
the  necessity  by  the  clock.  "  I  have  stayed  a  quite  uncon- 
scionable time.  Will  you  tell  Mr.  Leroy  how  sorry  I  was 
not  to  see  him?  I  do  hope  to  hear  him  sing  again — some 
day." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy  simply.  "He  will  be  very 
pleased,  because  he  loves  hearing  that  people  really  do  like 
his  voice.  Will  you  come  down  some  evening  and  dine  with 
us — and  Eldred  shall  sing  to  you  all  the  evening.  If  you 
could  only  wait  five  minutes  longer  I  think  he  would  be 
home." 

She  did  not  add  that  the  presence  of  her  guests  had  alone 
prevented  her  going  to  the  station  as  usual,  and  that  her 
fretted  heart  was  counting  the  clock  and  calculating  each  step 
homeward.  Miss  Mornington  would  not  stay  anyway — she 
.said  with  a  shrug  that  the  chauffeur  weighed  upon  her  mind 
even  when  she  defied  his  authority,  and  Mrs.  Leroy  and 
Vaughan  strolled  with  her  to  the  gate  to  see  her  off. 

"  Do  look  at  Phlumpie  !  "  said  Mrs.  Leroy  with  enjoyment, 
as  they  found  the  cat  in  his  old  position,  looking  out  between 
the  bars.  "  He  is  looking  for  his  master,  and  pretending  to 
guard  the  house.     'Am  a  dog!'  he  says." 

"  Is  that  your  cat  ?  "  said  Patricia  with  interest.  "  He 
seems  to  me  a  person  of  immense  character — I  noticed  him 
as  we  drove  up.  What  a  great  deal  of  expression  he  manages 
to  get  into  that  humped-up  back !  " 

"  He  was  probably  a  hall  porter  in  his  last  existence," 
Vaughan  condescended  to  remark.  It  was  the  very  first 
speech  of  Miss  Momington's  of  which  he  had  taken  actual 
notice.  "  We  were  all  cats  in  our  last  lives.  I  was  an  ugly 
sandy,  who  meowed  hideously,  and  people  threw  boots  at 
me.     And  I  know  just  what  Mrs.  Leroy  was  like." 

"Yes?" 

"  She  was  one  of  those  perfectly  white  cats — no,  not  like 
Phlumpie,  but  a  much  daintier  person."  There  was  a  subtle 
change  in  the  curious  voice  to  Patricia's  jealous  ears.  The 
croak  was  almost  possessive — almost  caressing.  "  And  she 
walked  upon  the  housetops,  and  was  most  annoyed  when  her 
fur  became  soiled !  "  he  said. 

But  Mrs.  Leroy  did  not  hear — she  had  swung  open  the 
gate  to  greet  someone  outside.  "Ah,  Eldred,  you  are  just 
in  time.     Here  is  someone  whom  you  know !  "  she  said. 


AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN.  57 

Leroy  lifted  his  hat,  and  smiled  sunnily,  and  shook  hands 
with  Miss  Mornington,  all  at  once.  There  was  no  doubt 
about  their  pleasure  in  meeting  each  other.  He  looked 
younger  even  than  Patricia  remembered  him,  though  she 
never  thought  of  him  as  boyish,  only  as  a  man  endowed  with 
a  great  quality  of  youth. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  I'm  just  leaving,  Mr.  Leroy,"  she  said,  as 
he  prepared  to  help  her  into  the  motor,  noticing,  as  Vaughan 
had  not  cared  to  do,  the  beautiful  finish  of  the  carriage  and 
one  or  two  new  "  gadgets,"  as  he  framed  it  to  himself,  which 
he  would  have  liked  to  examine.  "I  am  coming  down  at  a 
later  hour  next  time,  on  purpose  to  hear  you  sing." 

Eldred  laughed  as  if  he  were  pleased.  He  tucked  the  rug 
round  Patricia  with  a  pretty  air  of  taking  care  of  her,  and 
stood  a  moment  with  his  hand  on  the  door  of  the  dear  motor, 
chatting  to  its  enviable  owner,  his  eyes  very  blue  indeed  by 
the  light  of  the  summer  evening. 

"  Come  again  soon  and  see  us,"  he  said  cordially.  "  All 
right ! — Good-bye !  " 

He  raised  his  hat  again  from  his  closely-cropped  head  and 
stood  back  as  the  motor  swung  round,  with  critical  eyes  on  the 
starting  gear.  Patricia  tried  to  keep  her  own  glance  upon 
him,  while  she  was  reluctantly  conscious  of  the  two  other 
figures  at  the  gate — Mrs.  Leroy  with  the  white  cat  sitting  at 
her  feet,  and  the  tall,  spare  man  with  the  eyeglass. 

"  I  have  a  warped  mind !  "  she  said  to  herself  bitterly  as 
the  roads  flashed  by  and  brought  her  nearer  to  town  and  a 
tainted  atmosphere.  "  Yes,  that  is  it — I  have  lived  in  such 
a  sordid  world  that  I  see  harm  in  everything — even  there. 
And  yet  I  wish  there  had  not  been  a  third  in  my  Eden.  I 
wanted  to  keep  just  that  little  ideal  comer  of  the  world  to 
myself."  Her  thoughts  rested  with  infinite  relief  on  the 
little  house  and  its  owners,  but  the  apparition  of  Vaughan  in 
the  charmed  circle  looked  like  a  glimpse  of  the  serpent.  She 
was  unaware  that  by  an  irony  of  Fate  he  had  regarded  her  in 
the  same  character. 

"  I  am  warped  !  "  said  Patricia  to  herself,  angrily.  "  But  I 
do  not  like  that  type  of  man,  anywhere — not  only  at  Sunning- 
ton.  He  is  rather  disagreeable  in  manner  I  think,  though 
undeniably  a  gentleman — even  from  Aunt  Helen's  standpoint. 
I  hope  I  may  not  encounter  him  the  next  time  I  go  there. — 
What  a  curious  voice  he  had  !  " 


58 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  They  called  him  the  Lord  of  the  Tourney, 
For  love  of  the  courtly  games  : — 
And  his  son  takes  the  unwon  title 
By  right  of  his  legal  claims, — 
Let  us  go  back  to  our  manhood  ! 
It  is  better  than  knightly  names." 

Hie  Inheritance. 

Mr.  Mornington's  house  in  Piccadilly  had  such  a  wide 
frontage  that  it  had  once  or  twice  been  mistaken  for  a  club 
by  people  who  rang  at  the  great  double  doors,  demanded 
admittance,  and  were  courteously  rejected  by  the  butler.  By 
a  sense  of  arrival  which  never  seemed  to  fail  him  for  the 
family,  this  official  appeared  in  the  hall  just  as  Patricia 
walked  up  her  own  steps,  and  flung  open  the  doors  to  her  with 
a  chilly  deference.  He  approved  of  Patricia  because  she 
had  never  forgotten  her  manners  in  his  presence,  or  the  fact 
that  he  existed  and  was  corporally  before  her.  Lady  Vera 
had  done  both.  But  it  was  really  as  little  within  the  scope 
of  Patricia's  imagination  that  the  butler  had  the  capacity  for 
approval,  as  that  one  of  the  ladies  of  his  own  household 
should  lose  her  temper  was  within  the  butler's.  All  well- 
trained  servants  of  the  new  era  identify  themselves  with  the 
family  with  which  they  have  lived  for  over  six  months,  to 
the  extent  of  adopting  them  as  their  own  selves,  and  as  their 
womenkind.  It  reflected  upon  Mr.  Curtice  that  Lady  Vera 
betrayed  herself  in  his  presence ;  but  he  felt  that  her  daughter 
was  a  credit  to  the  establishment. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  Patricia  paused,  and  turned  her 
face  with  careless  courtesy. 

"  Oh,  Curtice,"  she  said,  "  who  is  dining  here  to-night  ?  " 
She  had  not  spoken  to  her  mother  that  day,  for  she  had 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  59 

gone  to  see  Chiffon  before  Lady  Vera  had  made  an  appear- 
ance in  the  public  portion  of  the  house ;  but  she  remembered 
no  engagement,  and  so  was  tolerably  sure  that  the  dinner- 
table  would  be  garnished  with  outsiders  to  avoid  a  family 
party.  Had  Mr.  Momington  been  out  of  town  they  would 
probably  have  dined  in  their  own  rooms,  unless  they  had 
been  units  of  a  restaurant  party;  but  since  his  presence  de- 
manded a  proper  toilette  at  home  it  certainly  would  not  be 
wasted  on  him  only. 

The  butler  took  a  written  list  from  his  pocket  and  referred 
to  it  with  the  manner  of  one  who  had  been  the  recipient  of  a 
confidence. 

"  Lady  D'Aulnoy,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blais  Heron,  and  Mr. 
Lexiter,  miss,"  he  said. 

"  Bridge  !  "  said  Patricia  to  herself.  "  And  a  family  party, 
of  course.  Thank  you,"  she  said  to  the  butler,  and  began  to 
saunter  upstairs  as  if  she  were  in  no  hurry  to  reach  her  own 
rooms. 

They  were  on  the  second  floor,  the  two  lower  ones  being 
absorbed  by  the  reception  rooms,  and  Patricia  usually 
rang  for  the  lift.  But  it  occurred  to  her  that  the  page-boy 
who  attended  to  this  item  in  the  household  comfort  was 
having  an  indefinite  meal  at  this  hour,  as  she  had  discovered 
on  former  occasions  by  a  furtive  munching  when  she  had  had 
him  summoned,  and  to  be  considerate  of  animals  and  other 
dependents  was  a  part  of  Patricia's  training.  She  caught  up 
her  fawn-coloured  skirts  and  began  to  slowly  ascend  with  a 
feeling  of  intense  and  echoing  loneliness  enveloping  her,  for 
her  father's  house  always  created  that  impression  on  her 
mind.  It  was  so  vast  as  to  be  like  an  empty  hotel — an  hotel 
suddenly  struck  dead,  without  its  life  and  noisy  machinery, 
but  still  working  on  velvet  wheels  of  routine.  The  whole  of 
its  staircases,  and  walls,  and  entrance  halls — the  background 
and  shell  of  the  house  indeed — were  white.  The  harmonious 
scheme  had  probably  been  chosen  in  the  first  case  to  mitigate 
the  darkness  of  London,  and  the  gloom  of  its  large  spaces, 
but  the  effect  was  one  of  utter  coldness  and  stillness.  The 
faint  pattern  on  the  encrusted  wall  papers,  the  faint  pattern 
on  the  velvet-piled  stair  carpets,  the  faint  gilding  on  the 
pillars,  were  not  sufficient  to  relieve  the  pallor  of  the  colour- 
less place,  and  the  rustle  of  her  own  skirts  struck  Patricia 
startlingly  as   she  ascended  the  stairs.     The  house  seemed 


6o  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

always  waiting  for  something,  to  her  mind — not  asleep,  rather 
gravely  awake — always  waiting  for  some  stroke  of  Fate  or  a 
crisis.     And  yet  she  was  not  an  imaginative  woman. 

Lady  Vera  rather  liked  the  white  stair  carpets  and  walls, 
and  had  never  altered  the  original  appearance  of  the  house 
for  all  the  years  that  she  had  lived  in  it,  save  for  trifling 
innovations,  so  that  its  appearance  had  become  historical. 
It  made  an  excellent  background  for  her  gowns,  and  she  had 
long  decided  that  her  figure  was  one  to  carry  plenty  of  colour. 
Her  rooms  themselves  continued  the  white  scheme,  with  a 
bolder  introduction  of  blue.  Blue  was  Lady  Vera's  chosen 
shade — "  true  blue,"  so  appropriate  to  her  name  with  its 
significance  of  truth,  she  said.  Men  agreed  with  her — up  to 
forty;  women  said  that  the  colour  of  her  hair,  rather  than 
the  appropriateness  of  her  name  (which  they  questioned !) 
had  decided  Lady  Vera's  taste  for  her  chosen  colour. 

Patricia  dragged  her  long  gown  rather  listlessly  down  one 
broad  corridor  after  another  until  she  stopped  at  her  own 
section  of  the  house.  Swing  doors  shut  it  off  from  the  visi- 
tor's portion  (she  thought  of  Chiffon's  nursery),  for  there 
were  sufficient  rooms  to  allow  the  three  members  of  the  family 
a  suite  to  themselves  as  though  they  were  royalty,  did  they 
so  choose.  Patricia  did  so  choose,  because  it  is  easier  to 
live  an  individual  life  inside  swing  doors  than  in  greater 
juxtaposition  to  the  rest  of  the  household.  Bedroom  and 
anteroom,  bathroom,  sitting-room  and  library,  comprised 
her  domain,  and  all  the  rooms  were  large  enough  to  enable 
her  to  walk  up  and  down  like  a  lioness  in  her  cage,  but  with- 
out the  same  sense  of  confinement — an  advantage  for  which 
she  had  found  no  occasion,  as  yet. 

There  is  always  pleasure  to  a  woman  with  any  beauty  in 
dressing  herself;  the  mere  changing  of  her  dainty  clothes, 
and  the  sense  of  fragrance  and  cleanliness  are  a  delight  to  a 
healthy  body,  while  the  gradual  adornment  and  increase  of 
charm  that  the  looking-glass  reflects  is  a  triumph  as  great  as 
any  after  effect  upon  her  fellow  creatures.  There  is  no 
compliment  so  sincere  as  the  silent  homage  of  a  looking- 
glass.  But  to-night  Patricia  watched  the  massing  and  dress- 
ing of  her  chestnut-brown  hair  with  only  half  an  attention, 
and  saw  her  maid  array  her  in  a  satin  gown  with  little  appre- 
ciation of  her  superb  neck  and  arms  against  its  rich  whiteness. 
Patricia  was  fond  of  satin,  and  knew  herself  tall  enough  to 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  6i 

wear  it.  It  clung  to  her  figure,  and  went  smoothly  over  her 
hips,  the  sweep  of  it  on  the  floor  looking  like  polished  pearl. 
It's  very  lack  of  adornment  made  it  a  simple  gown,  or  she 
would  not  have  worn  it  for  dinner  to-night,  and  it  suited  her 
just  so  well  that  a  little  satisfaction  was  visible  in  her  maid's 
eyes  when  she  clasped  the  opals  round  the  full  sweet  throat. 
She  felt  a  kind  of  reflected  pride  in  Patricia's  appearance, 
just  so  well  that  a  little  satisfaction  was  visible  in  her  maid's 
her  service  to  Lady  Vera's,  though  she  lost  precedence  in  the 
life  below  stairs  by  so  doing.  For  the  etiquette  of  the  ser- 
vants' hall  rules  that  maid  or  valet  rank  according  to  the 
status  of  their  employers,  and  Lady  Vera's  body  servant  took 
precedence  of  Patricia's  by  reason  of  the  courtesy  title  and 
closer  alliance  with  the  Blais  family.  Nevertheless,  the  girl 
openly  boasted  by  her  untitled  mistress,  and  honestly  thought 
that  her  face  and  figure  could  not  have  been  improved  upon. 
It  was  only  Patricia  herself  who  was  a  trifle  distrait  to-night, 
as  though  white  satin  complimenting  chestnut  hair  were  not 
valuable  assets  to  any  woman. 

Perhaps  the  family  dinner  weighed  on  her  mind  a  little. 
Everyone  would  use  each  other's  Christian  name,  and  the 
people  of  whom  they  told  stories  would  be  related  closely 
enough  to  be  "  Bobby  "  and  "  Hugh  "  and  "  Cecil,"  though 
they  might  also  be  public  characters.  The  only  bright  spot 
in  the  evening  was  the  presence  of  Aim6e,  Lady  D'Aulnoy. 
Aim^e  was  a  cousin  also,  but  her  cousinship  seemed  a  desir- 
able thing  to  Patricia,  who  liked  her.  She  was  a  woman  of 
fashion  as  much  as  any  Blais  amongst  them,  but  it  was  a 
better-bred  fashion,  and  the  oute^  shell  of  a  kindly  human  life. 
She  was  beautiful ;  no  one  had  ever  breathed  a  slander 
against  her,  and  successful  even  to  Royal  favour,  but  her 
own  sex  spoke  well  of  her.  The  cloud  upon  her  was  a 
physical  one,  and  rendered  her  pathetic,  for  a  heart  ailment 
made  it  unlikely  that  her  pleasant  and  harmless  existence 
should  continue  for  many  years.  To-night  Patricia  thought 
bitterly  that  it  seemed  an  irony  of  Providence  that  if  anyone 
in  her  world  were  making  a  tolerable  thing  of  life  they  should 
be  marked  with  a  cross  for  early  orders  to  leave  it.  She 
could  think  of  but  two — the  Duke  of  London  and  Lady 
D'Aulnoy — one  racked  with  pain  and  crippled  with  illness, 
the  other  doomed  by  incurable  disease.  A  third  figure  rose 
in  her  memory — her  father's*     But  she  hardly  counted  him 


62  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

as  one  of  the  people  whom  she  criticised.  With  an  inten- 
tional pride  she  had  already  begun  to  class  both  him  and 
herself  with  the  workers — men  into  whose  lives  at  least  the 
necessity  to  work  had  entered — and  to  divide  herself  from 
those  she  despised  by  right  of  her  fancied  connection  with 
that  great  Middle  Class  of  whose  existence  she  was  just 
becoming  aware  as  separate  from  her  own.  The  rude  altera- 
tion of  the  condition  of  her  life  had  widened  Patricia's  mental 
horizon  as  nothing  else  could  have  done,  for  had  she  been 
transplanted  into  Mrs.  Leroy's  sphere  she  would  have  found 
herself  far  more  at  home,  and  far  more  in  Lady  Helen's  tra- 
ditional world  than  she  did  in  her  mother's;  but  the  violent 
change,  though  it  enlarged  her  sense  of  the  immense  differ- 
ence there  is  in  custom  and  opinions,  had  only  the  effect  of 
making  her  conscious  of  more  varied  circles  than  the  guarded 
one  in  which  she  had  lived — it  had  not  taught  her  sympathy 
or  tolerance.  Her  mood  indeed  was  one  of  still  anger  and 
discontent  that  her  World  was  not  what  she  had  always 
imagined  it  would  be ;  she  had  looked  forward  to  life  in 
England  as  the  same  as  Lady  Helen's,  only  with  larger  in- 
terests and  outlook,  and  on  a  more  liberal  scale  altogether. 
Hitherto  she  had  been  a  spoiled  child  of  fortune  without 
knowing  it,  for  she  had  had  the  surroundings  of  extreme 
refinement  and  cultivation  with  a  sufficiency  of  money  to 
gratify  every  wish,  and  that  her  desires  had  never  been  to- 
wards extravagance  was  partly  the  result  of  her  training, 
partly  of  a  very  simple  and  almost  puritanical  inclination. 
Extravagance  was  bad  taste  in  Patricia's  eyes,  and  though 
she  did  not  own  it  her  religion  was  mainly  constituted  by 
those  two  words,  for  to  her  vulgarity  was  outer  darkness,  and 
good  breeding  the  highest  perfection  at  which  to  aim.  In 
consequence  her  world  wearied  her,  and  she  was  so  dis- 
appointed with  the  present  phase  of  existence  that  she  thought 
herself  disillusioned  for  the  whole  of  it. 

The  gong  had  actually  sounded — it  rang  very  faintly  along 
the  distant  corridors,  and  only  the  maid  caught  its  echo,  and 
not  Patricia — ^before  she  came  deliberately  out  past  the  swing 
doors  and  down  the  stairs  to  the  drawing-room  floor,  where 
she  fell  in  with  the  rest  of  the  party,  who  were  just  starting 
for  another  flight  of  stairs  to  the  dining-room.  Patricia 
paused  and  shook  hands  with  Lady  D'Aulnoy  going  down  on 
Mr,  Mornington's  arm,  her  smile  as  friendly  as  h  was  careless. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  63 

"  We  had  given  you  up,  Nougat !  "  said  Lady  D'Aulnoy 
laughing,  as  she  went  by.  "  Your  mother  said  you  had  gone 
into  the  regions  beyond  Mesopotamia,  and  been  devoured  by 
the  Philistines  !  ' 

There  was  no  need  to  answer,  for  the  couple  had  gone  on, 
and  Patricia  drew  back  a  trifle  to  allow  those  following  them 
to  pass — a  lady  in  rose-colour,  and  a  very  tall  man  in  evening- 
dress.  This  first  was  Mrs.  Blais  Heron,  and  she  was  like  a 
very  beautifully  modelled  dark  doll.  Her  skin  had  the  clear 
even  shade  of  the  finest  pink  wax,  her  soft  hair  was  so  per- 
fectly arranged  as  to  be  too  natural  for  nature,  and  her 
widely-opened  blue-grey  eyes  were  fringed  with  curled  lashes 
as  the  best  dolls'  are,  and  were  of  that  peculiar  liquidness 
that  one  sometimes  sees  in  dolls'  eyes,  under  delicately  arched 
brows.  They  did  not  stare  at  all  like  glass-eyes — they  simply 
looked  with  an  innocent  absence  of  any  expression.  Mrs. 
Blais  Heron  was  accounted  a  very  pretty  woman,  and  her 
smile  as  she  greeted  Patricia  was  an  added  attraction — to 
most  people — being  a  little  pensive.  Her  companion  had 
an  even  wider  reputation  for  his  physical  appearance.  He 
was  six  feet  three,  and  carried  a  prematurely  grey  head  with 
a  slightly  tired  insolence,  as  if  his  own  good  looks  almost 
bored  him.  He  was  glancing  down  at  Mrs.  Blais  Heron  now 
with  the  expression  he  always  kept  for  pretty  women,  and 
with  a  nearly  imperceptible  movement  Patricia  passed  him, 
before  he  saw  her,  with  a  slight  nod — "  How  are  you,  Caryl  ?  " 
Lastly  came  Lady  Vera  on  the  arm  of  Blais  Heron  himself — 
a  middle-aged  man  without  any  pretensions  to  appearance, 
and  a  loud,  strident  voice.  He  was  talking  even  now  at  the 
top  of  it  as  they  paused  by  the  stair  head. 

"  Well,  of  course  he's  a  good  man  in  that  post,  and  the  War 
Office  knows  it.  I  saw  Teddy  yesterday,  by  the  way,  in  his 
own  office,  looking  as  pompous  as  the  Lord  Mayor !  " 

"  How  amusing !  Think  of  Teddy  as  a  Big  Gun  under 
Government ! "  Lady  Vera's  voice,  quite  as  loud  as  her 
kinsman's,  rose  in  a  little  scream  of  laughter.  Then  she 
turned  her  eyes  and  met  Patricia's. 

There  was  something  in  the  very  attitude  of  the  two  women 
which  suggested  a  passive  antagonism,  inherent  in  their 
natures.  The  two  pairs  of  eyes,  alike  in  shape,  something 
of  the  same  colour,  but  totally  differing  in  expression, 
measured  each  other's  strength;  but  while  the  older  woman 


64  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

betrayed  every  emotion  in  her  heart  by  the  swift  changes 
passing  over  her  face,  that  of  the  younger  was  merely  a  mask 
of  courtesy.  There  was  even  a  very  slight  smile  on  her  lips 
as  she  faced  her  mother. 

"  Oh,  so  you  have  got  back  from  your  barbarians,  Nougat !  " 
Lady  Vera  said  in  the  same  loud  tones.  Her  voice  was 
singularly  metallic,  and  seemed  in  a  curious  way  the  outcome 
of  her  colouring ;  for  the  hair  which  was  dark  chestnut  in  her 
daughter  was  so  pale  as  to  be  almost  tawny  in  herself;  her 
eyes  were  tawny  too,  large  and  cold  and  shallow  with  flying 
gleams  of  temper  in  them,  and  her  skin  was  a  little  too  white, 
and  her  cheeks  a  little  too  clear  red  in  their  colour  to  carry 
conviction.  Altogether  she  was  suggestive  of  many  metals — 
bright  copper  in  her  hair  and  eyes,  the  substance  of  metal  on 
her  powdered  skin,  while  the  shine  of  the  sequinned  gown  she 
wore  heightened  the  effect.  A  hard,  bright,  glittering  figure, 
tall  until  one  saw  her  near  her  daughter,  beautifully  built 
until  Patricia's  more  perfect  lines  suggested  corsets  in  the 
artificial  curve  of  bust  and  waist  under  the  sequinned  gown 
— the  advantage  was  mentally  and  physically  with  Patricia. 
She  could  afford  her  little  tolerant  smile,  as,  without  answer- 
ing her  mother's  challenge,  she  turned  and  sauntered  down  to 
dinner  in  the  wake  of  the  party. 

The  dining-room  was  a  relief  from  the  whiteness  pervading 
the  shell  of  the  house,  being  panelled  with  walnut  high  over 
the  diners'  heads.  In  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  the  round 
table,  where  the  party  sat  down  with  a  significant  absence  of 
any  distinguishing  place  for  host  and  hostess,  the  butler 
mounting  guard  over  the  whole  business  and  gently  guiding 
those  who  seemed  to  stray  from  the  seat  he  had  designed  for 
them.  Patricia  heard  his  confidential  tones  in  her  ear — 
"  Will  you  please  sit  on  this  side,  miss  ?  " — and  found  herself 
between  Caryl  Lexiter  and  Mrs.  Blais  Heron. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  could  not  provide  you  with  a  man  to  your- 
self, Nougat,  but  it  was  so  very  uncertain  whether  you  would 
return  at  all  that  it  seemed  a  waste  of  time  !  "  said  Lady  Vera, 
with  a  laugh  that  jarred  all  across  the  dinner-table. 

"  Why,  has  Nougat  been  going  on  a  search  for  hidden 
treasure,  or  tested  the  powers  of  her  new  motor  on  a  trip 
into  the  Midlands  ?  "  asked  Blais  Heron  in  his  loud  tones. 
"What's  this  I  hear  about  your  Du  Barrie,  Nougat?  You 
preferred  electricity  to  petrol  ?  " 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  65 

"  I  don't  like  bad  smells,"  said  Patricia  nonchalantly. 
"  And  when  I  wish  to  risk  my  life  behind  somebody  who  seems 
to  be  flying  from  the  police,  my  mother  is  always  most  kind 
in  giving  me  a  seat  in  her  own  car,  which  is  suitable  for  long 
distances.  Personally  I  find  the  Du  Barrie  takes  me  far 
enough  with  comfort  and  electricity." 

"Anyhow,  Editha  tells  me  that  it  is  quite  perfect,"  said 
Blais  Heron  in  a  tone  of  congratulation  that  seemed  to  bestow 
the  favour  of  his  approval.  But  he  looked  vaguely  puzzled, 
as  a  child  might  who  had  been  addressed  in  longer  phrases 
than  it  can  understand.  There  was  a  suggestion  of  irony 
lurking  in  Patricia's  explanations  that  did  not  seem  to  him 
sufficiently  serious  for  such  a  subject  as  automobiles. 

Mrs.  Blais  Heron  turned  to  Nougat  with  her  faint  smile. 
Even  enthusiasm  could  not  alter  her  from  a  dark  doll.  "  Oh, 
I  saw  you  driving  in  it  this  morning,  Nougat,  and  I'm  simply 
dying  of  envy!  The  electric  Du  Barries  are  really  perfect 
for  town.  I'm  not  going  to  give  Ernie  any  peace  till  we 
have  one.  Don't  you  think  she's  a  lucky  girl,  Vee?  It's  a 
dar!" 

"  Yes,  isn't  it  a  dar !  Nougat  and  I  exchange  motors  to 
suit  each  other's  convenience.  She  lends  me  the  Du  Barrie 
for  night  work,  and  I  give  her  a  seat  on  my  car  when  we  have 
a  motor  party.  Giles,  you  must  persuade  Ernie  to  buy  a  Du 
Barrie ;  it  was  your  choice." 

Patricia  turned  her  head  a  trifle  curiously  to  hear  what 
Giles  Mornington  would  reply.  She  had  been  smiling  a  little 
drily  over  Lady  Vera's  version  of  borrowing  her  carriage,  and 
including  her  in  excursions  she  did  not  like,  as  studying  her 
"  convenience,"  but  the  expression  of  suppressed  boredom  on 
her  face  brightened  for  an  instant,  though  she  did  not  try  to 
meet  Mornington's  eyes  or  express  her  intuitive  sympathy 
with  him  in  the  midst  of  these  noisy  men  and  women,  as  she 
would  have  done  three  months  ago.  The  time  was  past 
when,  as  she  told  Fate  Leroy,  she  had  descended  to  all  sorts 
of  subterfuges  to  establish  a  mute  understanding  between 
them.  She  had  learned  by  humiliating  experience  that  he 
would  give  her  as  little  beyond  surface  courtesy  as  he  did  her 
mother. 

"  The  Du  Barries  are  undoubtedly  the  best  in  the  market, 
in  my  opinion — if  that  has  any  weight  with  you,  Ernie,"  he 
said  easily,  turning  his  face  towards  Blais  Heron  as  he  might 


66  AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

have  done  a  mask.  What  lay  behind  the  mask  Patricia  knew 
as  little  as  anyone  present. 

"  Well,  I  swear  by  Napier !  "  said  Lady  Vera,  and  her  voice 
was  the  signal  for  an  argumentative  chorus  of  Daimlers,  Pan- 
hards,  Clements,  Thornycrofts,  and  Renaults,  until  it  seemed 
as  if  the  party  could  never  be  disentangled  from  the 
machinery.  Everybody  present,  except  Patricia,  was  learned 
upon  tyres  and  air-cooled  engines  and  radiators,  just  as  a  few 
years  since  they  had  discussed  bearings  and  gear-cases  and 
free-wheels  during  the  cycle  craze.  For  a  fashion  is  after  all 
only  the  vehicle  for  idle  forces,  driving  the  human  mechanism 
at  more  dangerous  speed  than  the  most  successful  "  racer  " 
ever  built. 

"  But  tell  me,"  Lady  D'Aulnoy  interrupted  languidly,  her 
voice  as  raised  as  anyone's  present,  but  by  virtue  of  a  more 
musical  accent  appearing  less  harsh,  "  what  did  become  of 
Nougat  this  afternoon?  I  saw  Chiffon  at  the  Bath  Club, 
and  she  told  me  Nougat  had  lunched  with  them  and  then 
rushed  away  to  some  obscure  place,  district  visiting  or  some- 
thing." 

Lady  Vera  gave  vent  to  a  high  staccato  laugh.  "  No,  it 
wasn't  anything  so  fashionable !  The  people  one  district- 
visits  are,  I  believe,  dirty  and  rather  fascinating.  They  have 
no  morals,  but  they  have  the  attraction  of  savages.  Nougat 
goes  to  the  suburbs  to  visit  people  who  are  deadly  respectable 
and  dull.  Middle-Class  people,  not  even  picturesquely  dirty. 
Nougat  likes  the  Bourgeoisie  !  " 

But  the  shaft  passed  harmlessly  over  Nougat,  who  had 
turned  to  her  right-hand  neighbour  and  absorbed  not  only 
his  attention  but  her  own  as  well.  Lady  Vera  drank  her 
wine  almost  feverishly,  and  into  her  tawny  eyes  came  the 
look  of  an  angry  beast  balked  of  its  kill.  She  was  growing 
to  hate  this  woman  who  was  her  rival  rather  than  her  daughter 
— who  had  come  into  her  life  with  a  separate  existence  too 
strongly  rooted  to  be  bent  this  way  or  that  as  she  chose. 
Nothing  she  could  do  or  say  seemed  to  affect  Nougat,  and  it 
always  turned  to  her  own  disadvantage.  There  had  been 
one  other  personality  in  Lady  Vera's  life  which  she  could 
not  bend  or  break  by  violence,  either  of  temper  or  passion 
or  sheer  weariness  of  her  tantrums.  That  was  Giles  Morn- 
ington,  and  the  sense  of  her  failure  stung  her  afresh  whenever 
her  cold  light  eyes  chanced  to  fall  on  his  implacable  face. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  67 

The  man  she  had  married,  and  the  daughter  she  had  not 
borne  to  him,  were  both  thorns  in  the  flesh  to  her.  They 
galled  her  as  none  other  had  ever  done. 

The  talk  waxed  louder  as  the  dinner  advanced,  even  Lady 
D'Aulnoy  appearing  to  be  speaking  to  an  audience  rather 
than  to  personal  friends  within  a  few  yards  of  her.  The 
women  had  commenced  their  dinner  to  the  accompaniment  of 
sherry  or  hock,  then  had  taken  champagne,  and  with  dessert 
drank  port,  one  or  two  liqueurs  following  with  the  coffee. 
The  wine  loosened  their  tongues,  and  with  the  loosening  of 
their  tongues  came  indiscretion.  Only  once  during  dinner 
did  Patricia  meet  Giles  Mornington's  eyes,  and  then  they 
regarded  each  other  almost  curiously,  as  those  who  must 
need  acknowledge  an  affinity  whether  they  will  or  no.  It  was 
before  the  servants  left  the  room,  the  butler  still  presiding 
over  the  sideboard,  while  four  or  five  silent  black  figures, 
his  satellites,  waited  behind  the  guests'  chairs.  The  servants 
were  so  beautifully  automatic  that  they  might  easily  be  for- 
gotten— and  Lady  Vera  was  telling  a  tale  of  a  woman  she 
knew,  by  name. 

"Well,  I  know  that  when  she  was  staying  at  Longmeads 
last  autumn  her  maid  always  arranged  for  her  to  take  her 
bath  last  thing  before  she  went  to  bed — and  the  bath-room 
was  next  to  his,  which  made  it  so  easy.  The  reason  it  came 
out  was  that  the  housemaid  found  one  of  her  pin-curls  in  his 
bed  one  morning." 

"  Oh,  how  beasty ! '"  said  Mrs.  Blais  Heron  at  the  top  of 
her  voice  through  the  general  laughter.  Lady  Vera's  "  set  " 
had  their  own  fashion  in  adjectives,  which  were  liable  to 
change  as  soon  as  anyone  outside  their  immediate  circle 
heard  and  adopted  them.  Just  now  the  letter  y  was  in 
danger  of  wearing  out  with  frequent  use  and  unauthorised 
application. 

Patricia,  looking  across  the  table,  became  suddenly  aware 
of  the  impassive  footman  behind  her  mother.  She  sat  up 
slightly  as  if  instinctively  to  draw  her  attention,  with  a  warn- 
ing in  her  eyes.  But  Lady  Vera  did  not  see.  She  was 
leaning  her  elbow  on  the  table  with  a  toothpick  in  one  pretty 
white  hand,  and  laughing  loudly  over  her  own  tale  in  com- 
pany with  Blais  Heron  who  lolled  sideways  in  his  chair  with 
his  shoulder  turned  to  Aim^e  D'Aulnoy.  Patricia's  brown 
eyes,  flying  past  the  latter,  met  Giles  Mornington's,  and  she 

5* 


68  AS   YE  HAVE   SOWN. 

saw  that  he  also  had  remembered  the  footmen  and  striven  to 
stem  the  tide  of  unsavoury  reminiscence. 

For  a  minute  the  two  looked  at  each  other ;  but  something 
like  suspicion  kept  guard  in  Mornington's  secretive  face  and 
made  Patricia's  heart  sick.  She  turned  round  desperately 
to  Lexiter. 

"Can  you  do  something  to  remind  my  mother  that  the 
servants  are  still  in  the  room  ?  "  she  said.  "  It  is  no  great 
matter — save  that  she  is  using  people's  names !  " 

He  looked  quietly  from  her  to  Lady  Vera  with  a  glance  too 
subtle  to  explain.  "  I  will  speak  to  her  if  you  like  ?  "  he  said, 
and  bending  his  handsome  grey  head  a  little  towards  his 
hostess  he  said  something  so  unexpected  that  Patricia's 
amazement  leapt  into  her  face. 

"  Vera  !  tutackuck  cucarurely  !  Thuthe  mumenun  cucanun 
huhearurly !  " 

Lady  Vera  shot  a  glance  at  him,  composed  of  various 
emotions — some  sort  of  fear,  a  touch  of  resentment,  awakened 
caution — but  she  did  not  continue  her  reminiscences.  On 
Patricia's  other  hand  arose  Mrs.  Blais  Heron's  voice  ecstatic- 
ally. 

"  Oh,  Car !  how  angry  that  made  the  Duke  of  London  the 
night  we  all  dined  at  the  Harbingers.  There  were  only  four 
or  five  of  us  who  could  speak  the  Lully  language,  and  none 
of  the  hubbies  knew  it !  "  Her  voice  rose  higher  still  in  a 
scream  of  laughter,  in  which  Lady  Vera  joined.  "  Chiffon, 
and  I  and  you,  and  Mrs.  Dickie  Verner,  kept  it  up  all  the 
time,  and  the  old  Duke  grew  so  cross  !  He  told  Ernie  it  was 
damned  bad  taste — quite  as  bad  as  speaking  French  before 
a  class  that  cannot  understand  it ! " 

Patricia  turned  her  brilliant  amused  eyes  to  Lexiter,  with 
rather  the  same  expression  that  she  might  have  had  for  the 
antics  of  a  performing  poodle.  "Would  you  mind  explaining 
to  me  what  has  taken  you  suddenly  ?  "  she  said  with  repressed 
laughter.  "  Are  you  all  gone  mad,  or  inspired  to  speak  with 
tongues  ? " 

"  The  latter,  I  think,"  he  returned  with  a  nonchalant 
brevity  most  women  associated  with  him.  Patricia  had  not 
as  yet  endowed  him  with  enough  personality  to  allow  for 
characteristics,  and  she  faintly  resented  the  curtness  of  his 
sentences.  "  It's  a  language  of  our  own,  made  by  doubling 
the  consonants,  adding  u  and  ly.   I'll  teach  you — if  you  like  ?  " 


AS  YE  HAVE   SOWN.  69 

"  Thanks,  no !  "  she  responded  idly,  her  glance  straying 
round  the  table  with  unconscious  contempt.  "I  agree  too 
entirely  with  the  Duke !  "  Her  eyes  wondered  a  little  at 
this  world  of  women  in  which  she  found  herself — women  who 
had  eaten  their  food  with  a  coarseness  and  greediness  which 
would  have  been  hardly  tolerated  in  an  Elementary  School ; 
women  who  lolled  in  their  chairs,  and — worse  still ! — allowed 
their  menkind  a  like  liberty !  Women  who  had  silly  phrases 
of  their  own,  and  like  ill-bred  children  thought  it  desirable 
to  have  codes,  and  signals,  and  secret  references,  before 
others  who  were  not  in  the  secret.  They  seemed  to  Patricia 
as  far  beyond  the  pale  of  civilised  manners  as  a  savage  might 
have  been.  She  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  arguing  with 
the  one  as  the  other. 

"  Well,"  said  Lady  Vera  at  last,  rising  with  a  flash  of  her 
sequinned  body  which  was  like  the  reflected  shimmer  on  a 
snake's  scales,  "  I  suppose  we  have  all  done  feeding.  Shall 
we  trot  ?  " 

"What's  the  order  of  the  night?  Bridge?"  asked  Blais 
Heron,  kicking  his  wife's  train  out  of  his  way  with  a  freedom 
he  had  not  shown  before  dinner.  "  I  suppose  you  won't  play, 
Giles  ?  " 

"  No,  thanks.  I  have  letters  to  write,  and  I  am  going  down 
to  the  club  for  billiards." 

"  It's  such  a  pity  you  won't  play  Bridge  now,  Giles ! "  said 
Mrs.  Blais  Heron,  as  Mornington  opened  the  door  for  her 
exit.  "  You  were  the  best  partner  I  ever  had  for  that  one 
season  when  you  beat  us  all  hollow  !  " 

"  I  tired  of  it."  Mornington  smiled  with  studied  courtesy 
at  Aimee,  Lady  D'Aulnoy,  as  she  reached  him  and  stopped 
to  shake  hands. 

"  I  know  I  shan't  see  you  again,  Giles,"  she  said  plaintively. 
"  When  you  once  get  into  your  own  part  of  the  house  you 
might  be  a  thousand  miles  off  for  inaccessibility.  Nougat, 
come  and  talk  to  me.  I've  been  trying  to  get  at  you  all 
through  dinner." 

Patricia  had  come  abreast  of  Lady  D'Aulnoy  in  the  onward 
impulse  of  the  dinner  party  to  the  hall,  for  as  everyone  had 
smoked  together  there  was  no  excuse  for  the  men  to  stay 
behind ;  the  older  woman  passed  her  arm  through  that  of 
the  younger,  but  Patricia  did  not  glance  in  Momington's 
direction,  or  say  good-night  in  her  turn.     She  knew,  with  a 


70  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

dull  hopelessness,  that  she  would  not  see  him  again  until  the 
morrow  either — perhaps  not  then,  if  he  could  avoid  the  ladies 
of  his  household  not  too  pointedly.  Behind  the  great 
polished  door  of  his  own  rooms  on  the  ground  floor  he  might, 
as  Aim6e  said,  be  a  thousand  miles  off  for  inaccessibility. 
She  rarely  knew  if  he  were  in  or  out  of  the  house,  and  she 
had  never  been  invited  beyond  that  great  door,  which  to  her 
imagination  was  always  closed. 

"  Come  on !  "  called  Lady  Vera  from  the  hall,  her  sinuous 
metallic  figure  gleaming  towards  the  dusk  of  the  lift.  "  Come 
on.  Nougat!  What  are  you  all  waiting  for?  We're  going 
up,  packed  like  herrings !  " 

"  Assus  cluclosuseluUy  assus  yuyou  lulikulely ! "  called 
Lexiter,  raising  his  voice  behind  Patricia,  as  he  followed 
her. 

"  Yuyou  bubeasustut !  "  Mrs.  Blais  Heron  called  back. 

Patricia  gently  extricated  her  arm  from  Lady  D'Aulnoy's. 
"  For  the  sake  of  my  gown  I  prefer  to  walk  upstairs,"  she 
remarked  carelessly.  "  You  mustn't  come  with  me,  because 
it  is  better  for  you  to  ride,  Aim6e.  I  am  sorry  for  you, 
however !  " 

There  was  a  babel  of  sound  round  the  lift,  beside  which 
waited  the  page-boy  with  astonished  eyes  he  vainly  tried  to 
keep  blank,  while  Lexiter  and  Blais  Heron  facetiously 
attempted  to  press  the  women  and  themselves  into  the  con- 
fined space.  There  was  much  noise  and  laughter  and  a 
woman's  shriek  of  anger  or  excitement — then  Mrs.  Blais 
Heron  came  flying  across  the  hall  to  the  stairs  which  Patricia 
was  already  mounting,  half  a  yard  of  rose-coloured  ruching 
in  her  hand. 

"  I'm  coming  up  with  you,  Nougat !  "  she  exclaimed  breath- 
lessly. "  I've  had  enough  of  their  beastly  fooling.  Look 
what  Car  did  to  my  gown — if  he  wins  to-night  I  swear  I'll 
make  him  give  me  another !  " 

"  How  careless ! "  said  Patricia  in  clear,  cold  tones.  "  But 
I  think  it  would  be  more  crushing  if  you  sent  Caryl  to 
Coventry  for  behaving  like  a  school-boy,  rather  than  allowed 
him  such  an  easy  reparation." 

There  was  neither  irony  nor  disdain  in  her  manner,  and  yet 
Mrs.  Blais  Heron  glanced  at  her  for  a  moment  quickly  as  if 
doubting  whether  she  were  being  warned  or  taken  to  task. 
She  put  an  arm  round  Nougat's  reluctant  waist,  her  clear 


AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN.  y\ 

expressionless  eyes  looking  up  with  some  uncertainty  at  the 
beautiful  face  above  her. 

"  You  are  such  a  dar,  Nougat !  "  she  said  effusively.  "  I 
always  feel  you've  so  much  in  you,  and  are  really  so  sympa- 
thetic if  one  could  get  a  chance  to  talk  to  you.  I'm  in  such 
a  curious  crisis  in  my  life — I  want  to  tell  you  all  about  it ! " 

Patricia  raised  her  brows  mentally,  but  her  great  brown 
eyes  were  merely  quietly  attentive  on  the  pretty  dark  doll 
face  so  near  her  cwn.  Had  Editha  Blais  Heron  said  :  "  I'm 
in  such  a  mess !  "  she  was  beginning  to  realise  that  it  would 
have  meant  card  debts,  or  the  possibility  of  revelations  that 
in  another  sphere  of  life  might  have  ended  in  the  Divorce 
Court.  But  a  "  curious  crisis  "  in  the  existence  of  such  women 
as  Editha  indicated  rather  a  sentimental  attraction  which  was 
not  yet  compromising,  or  possibly  only  a  new  taste  for  re- 
ligion, or  fortune-telling. 

"  Come  and  have  tea  with  me,  and  then  we  can  talk.  I 
shall  be  in  to-morrow,"  she  said  good-naturedly,  with  a  sigh 
for  the  time  to  be  bestowed  on  Mrs.  Blais  Heron,  which 
might  have  been  enjoyed  with  books  or  music  or  more  con- 
genial companionship. 

"May  I?  Thanks!  I'm  dying  to  con!"  ('fide  or  'fess 
was  understood.)  "  I'll  come  at  five — can't  before,  because 
I'm  seeing  Barbuillon  about  my  hair.  You  are  such  a  dar, 
Nougat ! " 

"  I  hope,"  said  Patricia  to  herself  meditatively,  as  she 
strolled  into  the  drawing-room,  "  that  she  isn't  going  to  alter 
her  hair,  at  least!  It  is  the  only  natural  thing  about  her 
now." 

She  had  arrived  sooner  than  the  travellers  by  the  lift  after 
all,  or  than  Mrs.  Blais  Heron,  who  loitered  to  join  them  as 
they  came  up  in  a  laughing,  protesting  group,  the  women 
ostentatiously  shaking  out  their  gowns  with  plenty  of  in- 
sinuation as  to  their  being  crushed  by  the  men's  heavier 
black  figures,  all  of  them  chattering  and  chaffing  loudly.  The 
sound  of  their  voices  heralded  them  along  the  corridor  to 
Patricia,  where  she  stood  among  the  white  pillars,  and  brought 
a  deeper  listlessness  and  boredom  to  her  face.  The  drawing- 
room  was  as  white  as  the  hall,  and  had  the  same  stricken 
look  of  waiting  for  something — a  dead  house  that  had  ex- 
pected the  clang  of  a  crisis  to  wake  it  to  piteous  life  for  over 
twenty  years.     Something  of  the  same  expression  of  patient 


72  AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

expectancy  was  in  Patricia's  unconscious  figure  in  its  bright 
satin  gown — she  seemed  but  as  another  living  pillar,  a  hardly 
more  lifelike  ornament  of  the  vast  empty  room,  when  the 
swish  of  the  women's  skirts  announced  their  arrival,  and  the 
Bridge  players  came  in  at  the  further  door  and  proceeded  all 
across  a  desert  of  polished  floor  to  one  of  the  pair  of  chimney 
pieces,  beside  which  Patricia  was  standing. 

"  Ugh  ! "  said  Lady  Vera  with  an  exaggerated  shrug  of  her 
shoulders.  "  This  room  strikes  chilly  even  in  the  middle  of 
summer !  I  hate  such  enormous  spaces.  It  is  like  a  hotel !  " 
The  candour  of  the  remark  was  equal  with  its  truth.  A 
whole  shopful  of  quaint  spindle-legged  furniture  dotted 
amongst  the  white  pillars  did  not  make  the  drawing-room 
appear  habitable  unless  there  were  more  than  a  hundred 
people  in  it.  A  Watteau  screen  had  been  placed  near  the 
Bridge  table,  somewhat  shutting  off  a  section  of  the  room  near 
the  long  windows  which  opened  out  on  to  the  balcony ;  but 
even  this  failed  to  satisfy  Lady  Vera. 

"We  will  play  in  my  own  room  another  time,"  she  said 
fretfully,  flinging  her  glittering,  sequinned  body  down  on  to 
one  of  the  chairs  with  a  movement  that  made  the  tail  of  her 
gown  quiver  like  a  wicked  snake.  "  I  should  have  gone  there 
to-night,  but  there  is  no  balcony,  and  I  thought  the  men 
beasties  would  want  to  smoke  outside.  Now,  good"  people, 
draw  up!  There  are  too  many  of  us,  so  somebody  must 
amuse  Nougat  on  the  balcony.  I  suppose  you  won't  play. 
Nougat  ?  "  It  was  noticeable  that  Lady  Vera  never  addressed 
her  daughter  by  her  own  baptismal  name,  but  had  adopted 
the  sobriquet  of  her  school  friends  from  the  moment  she  first 
heard  it.  Without  caring  to  wonder  if  there  were  prejudice 
in  this,  Patricia  had  exchanged  the  pleasant  associations  with 
it,  of  her  school  days,  for  a  distaste  connected  with  her 
mother's  set,  who  had  all  promptly  taken  example  and 
adopted  the  nickname — ^probably  because  it  was  more  sug- 
gestive of  slang. 

"  No,  thanks,"  she  said.  "  I  should  spoil  your  game.  I  am 
still  only  a  beginner,  and  I  find  it  unnerving  when  my  partner 
glares  at  my  discards."  The  house  stakes  were  high  in 
Piccadilly. 

She  laid  her  hand  on  the  bell  as  she  spoke,  and  sent  the 
footman  who  answered  it  to  her  maid  for  a  wrap,  for  the 
friendly  night  had  not  yet  prepared  an  obscurity  for  her  white 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  73 

figure.  By  the  time  she  had  disguised  herself  somewhat  in 
the  long  soft  cape  they  brought  her,  the  Bridge  party  was 
settled  in  its  places,  but  without  waiting  to  see  who,  if  any- 
body, preferred  the  fresh  air  to  watching  the  game,  she 
stepped  on  to  the  balcony,  and  sat  down  in  one  of  the  loung- 
ing chairs  which  stood  there.  The  most  natural  theory  was 
that  Lady  D'Aulnoy  or  Mrs.  Blais  Heron  would  join  her, 
and  leave  the  players  evenly  balanced.  She  did  not  turn  her 
head  when  a  large  body  blocked  the  window  frame  a  few 
minutes  later,  but  as  soon  as  it  filled  the  seat  by  her  side  she 
raised  her  brows  very  slightly  to  recognise  Caryl  Lexiter. 

"  Please  smoke,"  was  all  she  said.  "  I  know  you  for  one 
of  the  most  inveterate  '  Bridgers  '  in  London,  and  I  am  sure 
you  require  an  alternative  if  you  are  to  share  my  exile !  " 

"  Thanks !  "  said  Lexiter  quietly,  his  eyes  watching  her 
with  a  steady  furtiveness  over  the  match  as  it  blazed  up  in 
his  handsome  face.  A  long  and  unsavoury  experience  of 
women  had  not  taught  him  to  classify  Patricia.  The  terms 
of  their  acquaintance  were  exactly  on  the  same  impersonal, 
friendly  footing  as  they  had  been  when  he  met  her  for  the 
first  time  on  her  return  from  abroad.  He  had  thought  her 
then  a  singularly  easy  woman  to  know,  charmingly  ready  to 
be  amused,  and  to  accept  the  hall-mark  of  easy  manners; 
but  he  had  since  found  that  things  had  remained  where  they 
had  begun — and  to  the  indefinable  barrier  which  caused  it  he 
was  a  stranger. 

Even  now  Patricia  was  not  apparently  flattered  by  his 
having  foregone  Bridge  to  sit  by  her  side  under  the  night 
sky,  and  look  at  her  grave  beauty.  Lexiter  valued  her  face 
and  figure  generously.  He  did  not  admire  her  person  the 
less  because  he  knew  next  to  nothing  of  her  mind,  and  the 
material  advantages  of  chestnut-brown  hair  and  a  skin  like 
white  curd  made  him  appraise  her  highly.  He  had  an  ex- 
cellent view  of  both  these  good  points  at  the  present  moment, 
for  Patricia's  attention  was  fixed  rather  on  the  road  below 
the  balcony  than  on  him.  She  was  leaning  forward  musingly, 
her  elbow  resting  on  her  cloak  as  a  protection  from  the  dingy 
stone  coping,  and  her  brown  eyes  fathoms  deep  in  a  specula- 
tion he  could  not  divine.  Below  her  was  a  procession  of 
cabs  and  carts  and  the  tops  of  omnibuses  passing  beneath 
the  balcony — a  bird's-eye  view  of  common  features  beneath 
common  hats  .   .   .  after  all,  she  acknowledged  with  a  sigh, 


74  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

those  people  in  the  room  behind  her,  talking  such  serious  gib- 
berish over  their  cards,  were  gifted  with  a  certain  quality  of 
voice  and  refinement  of  accent,  even  if  they  did  shout.  What 
would  it  be  like,  she  wondered,  to  have  to  associate  with  the 
people  who  wore  cheap  hats  and  rode  outside  omnibuses? 
Patricia  had  never,  as  it  happened,  ridden  outside  an 
omnibus.  This  is  not  to  say  that  many  of  her  acquaintances 
had  not,  for  even  minor  economies  are  alluring  after  a  run 
of  bad  luck  at  Bridge ;  but  her  own  motor  being  always  at 
her  disposal,  and  plenty  of  money  in  her  purse,  cabs  had 
seemed  a  happier  medium  did  one  want  a  change.  Now 
it  occurred  to  her  that  the  majority  had  to  ride  in  omnibuses 
— even  Fate  Leroy  with  her  well-cut  gowois  and  air  of  gentle 
birth  ! — and  it  brought  a  shadow  to  the  face  she  kept  so  per- 
sistently turned  to  the  rattle  and  jingle  below — a  vibration 
of  implacable  traffic  that  to  her  mind  made  conversation 
unpleasant  if  not  impossible.  She  did  not  want  to  turn 
round  and  talk,  and  yet  she  knew  that  she  must.  She  had 
never  taken  the  mere  contemplation  of  Caryl  Lexiter  as  a 
physical  subject  into  consideration,  but  his  entertainment, 
involving  as  it  did  a  certain  amount  of  attention,  bored  her. 

Lexiter's  position  was  not  entirely  satisfactory  either. 
What  is  the  use  of  being  six  feet  three,  with  a  nearly  perfect 
profile,  if  the  woman  to  whom  you  are  talking  does  not  seem 
to  be  aware  of  these  facts  ?  His  level-lidded  eyes  rested  on 
the  coil  of  her  unresponsive  hair,  and  he  idly  unbound  it  in 
imagination  and  wondered  if  it  were  all  real,  and  whether  it 
would  not  reach  pretty  nearly  to  her  knees.  An  alluring  vision 
haunted  his  secret  fancy  of  a  less  unapproachable  Patricia, 
fire-flushed  by  the  light  of  a  cosy  bedroom  in  winter — a 
Patricia  in  a  whiter  garment  than  her  dinner  satin,  with  the 
coils  of  chestnut  hair  loose  about  her,  and  making  her  warmly 

feminine It   was  unlikely   that   she    would  marry 

him  before  the  winter,  even  with  a  certain  influence  that  he 
knew  was  with  him  to  force  her  into  it.  But  English  houses 
were  very  cosy  in  cold  weather — particularly  when  the  brisk 
bracing  day  was  shut  out  behind  drawn  curtains,  and  the 
firelight  danced  merrily  about  my  lady's  chamber 

Inside  the  drawing-room  Mr.  Lexiter's  defection  had  met 
with  far  more  comment  than  from  the  object  who  had  drawn 
him  on  to  the  balcony.  Mrs.  Blais  Heron  had  turned  her 
clear,  empty  eyes  on  Lady  Vera  with  a  little  pensive  smile. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  75 

"Poor  old  Car!  "  she  said.  "Is  even  Bridge  a  secondary 
attraction?  " 

"  Hearts  are  trumps  !  "  said  Lady  Vera  with  a  significance 
that  might  or  might  not  be  intentional,  for  it  was  her  declara- 
tion. 

"  What  becomes  of  last  year's  yachting  party  ?  "  said  Blais 
Heron  under  his  breath.  "Hearts  are  trumps,  are  they? 
May  I  play  to  hearts,  partner  ?  " 

"Yes,  please,"  said  Lady  D'Aulnoy,  something  in  her  face 
belying  her  consent  to  Lady  Vera's  double  meaning,  if  it 
existed.  The  little  flicker  of  the  cards  as  they  fell  on  the 
table  was  all  that  broke  the  stillness  till  the  round  was  over, 
but  while  Blais  Heron  argued  with  his  hostess  as  to  her 
arithmetic,  and  protested  his  own  score  correct,  Lady 
D'Aulnoy  turned  her  head  as  if  half  troubled  and  looked  at 
the  open  window  behind  her. 

"  Oh,  it  won't  come  to  anything,  in  my  opinion !  "  mur- 
mured Mrs.  Blais  Heron,  catching  the  movement.  "  Nougat 
and  he  will  not  get  on." 

"Why?" 

"  Car  Lexiter  has  no  use  for  a  decent  woman  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Blais  Heron,  a  sudden  shrewdness  making  the  expressionless 
eyes  repulsive.  Perhaps  she  was  wise  to  keep  them  blank 
as  a  rule,  for  the  few  thoughts  that  did  rise  in  their  clear 
shallows  were  not  elevating  to  recognise. 

Outside  on  the  balcony  Lexiter  was  leaning  forward  also, 
at  last,  and  making  a  bid  for  fortune.  His  face  had  altered 
to  the  look  it  had  for  certain  women  of  his  set — perhaps  the 
vision  of  the  firelit-room  had  quickened  his  blood — and  his 
voice  was  altered  too  when  he  spoke. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  are  thinking  about.  Nougat !  " 

Patricia  turned  her  regal  head  with  a  quite  unembarrassed 
surprise,  and  gave  him  her  whole  attention  at  last  in  a  way 
that  made  him  drop  back  into  his  chair  again.  It  occurred 
to  her  then  that  he  was  lolling  after  the  manner  of  his  kind ; 
but  she  acknowledged  that  his  attitude  was  somehow  bearable, 
whereas  if  it  had  been  Blais  Heron  she  would  have  mildly 
suggested  his  sitting  more  erect.  But  Lexiter's  lounging  was 
a  graceful  thing,  as  was  any  insolence  of  his. 

"  I  was  looking  at  that  man  on  the  other  side  of  the  road," 
she  said  with  a  direct  simplicity  that  discomforted  Lexiter's 
advance  as  nothing  else  could  have  done.     "  He  is  only  a 


^6  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

blurred  figure  from  here,  but  I  think  he  is  a  very  low-class 
individual  indeed.  Do  look  at  him !  Why  is  he  hovering 
round  the  Park  Gates  like  that  ?  " 

"  Poor  devil !  trying  to  slip  in  and  sleep  inside,  probably. 
I  often  think  I  should  like  to  get  hold  of  a  genuine  tramp 
and  hear  his  experiences !  "  said  Lexiter,  too  skilful  to  betray 
a  change  of  front,  though  all  the  danger  had  gone  out  of 
his  voice  and  eyes. 

Patricia  looked  at  him  afresh  with  a  kind  of  mental  shock. 
She  had  known  poverty  far  more  intimately  than  Caryl 
Lexiter  in  the  beggars  of  Funchal,  and  in  a  land  where  the 
warmth  of  the  sun  is  the  prerogative  of  the  lowest,  and  food 
is  fruit,  easily  obtained,  she  had  not  gone  beyond  a  passing 
pity.  But  Patricia  realised,  as  no  English-bred  woman  can 
do,  the  cruelty  of  England's  climate  and  the  meaning  of  damp 
and  cold.  If  it  struck  through  her  dainty  silks,  and  de- 
manded wraps  even  in  the  summer,  what  was  it  to  rags  and 
starvation?  She  looked  at  Caryl  Lexiter  and  saw  him  as  a 
Type  which  in  broadcloth,  from  the  height  of  a  balcony, 
would  find  an  interest  in  exploiting  the  misery  of  the  gutter. 
For  the  minute  she  hated  him — not  for  his  circumstances, 
but  for  daring  to  venture  into  the  presence  of  poverty  save 
with  awe  and  a  thanksgiving  that  his  lot  was  not  with  these. 
But  there  was  something  else — a  haunting  memory,  an  annoy- 
ance that  yet  reminded  her  of  a  laugh.     What  was  it  ? 

"PF^Z/,  it  would  not  hurt  you"  said  a  sudden  cross  voice 
in  her  ears,  a  voice  with  a  little  croak  in  it — "F(?«  could  say 
'Oh  fair  tramp!  I  have  too  much  bread  and  wine '" 

"  You  don't  realise !  "  she  said  abruptly,  wrenching  herself 
back  from  an  association  which  seemed  at  the  moment  miles 
away.  "  You  don't  realise  the  wretchedness  of  the  tramp,  or 
you  would  hardly  think  it  a  diversion  to  listen  to  his  ex- 
periences. You  have  too  much  bread  and  wine — I  mean, 
you  have  never  known  anything  about  these  people — the 
poor.     I  have." 

She  shut  her  red  lips  curtly,  and  turned  a  white  marbled 
shoulder  to  him  from  which  the  protecting  cloak  had  slipped. 
She  was  vexed  with  him  and  with  herself.  Why  had  he  put 
her  in  mind  of  a  man  whom  she  had  not  even  liked,  and 
whose  figure  had  struck  her  as  sinister  in  juxtaposition  with 
the  husband  and  wife  at  Sunnington?  Was  there  a  likeness 
between  the  two  men  ?     Impossible !     She  saw  the  face  of 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  77 

the  afternoon — lean,  irritable,  with  eyes  that  were  too  keen 
for  sympathy,  and  a  watchful  purpose  in  every  line  of  its 
steady  lips  and  moulded  jaw;  and  she  saw  the  face  of  this 
evening,  though  she  did  not  turn  her  own — goodly  to  look 
upon,  with  the  advantages  and  culture  of  many  generations, 
a  type  of  successful  breeding,  the  more  distinguished  for  the 
thick  silver  hair,  but  full  of  passions  that  might  be  indulged. 
In  the  point  of  refinement  the  advantage,  strangely  enough, 
was  with  the  man  who  was  certainly  a  gentleman,  but  who 
gave  no  known  credentials  with  his  name.  Was  the  Honour- 
able Caryl  Lexiter  fallen  short  of  Lady  Helen's  standard 
rather  than  the  unhonoured  Gerald  Vaughan — after  all? 
Patricia  wondered. 

In  the  pause,  while  neither  of  them  spoke,  came  an  echo 
of  material  life  from  the  open  window  behind  them,  freighted 
with  a  modem  interest. 

"  Pass  the  score,  please.  What's  the  score  ?  I  can't  de- 
clare unless  I  know  the  score  !  " 

"  We  are  twenty-six  below,  and  eight  above  !  " 

"  Oh  !— Diamonds !  " 

Then  Blais  Heron's  loud  voice,  with  an  unctuous  sense  of 
humour :  "  We  were  all  taught  in  the  nursery  that  there  is 
nothing  so  hopeless  as  a  weak  red  suit !  " 

"  Yes,  but  one  plays  by  the  score  ! — that's  just  as  old  !  " 

Silence,  and  the  flutter  of  the  bright  slips  of  pasteboard 
falling  on  green  cloth. 

"  I  suppose  Bridge  is  a  scientific  game  ? "  remarked 
Patricia.  "  There  must  be  something  very  brain-sapping  in 
it,  don't  you  think?  All  our  mental  energies  seem 
to  have  been  absorbed  before  we  begin  to  talk  of  anything 
else !  " 

"  I  should  call  it  a  common-sense  game,  rather,"  said 
Lexiter,  stretching  out  his  long  legs  to  the  uncomfortable 
confines  of  the  balustrade,  and  suppressing  a  momentary 
impulse  to  yawn.  The  aggravating  part  of  Patricia's  indiffer- 
ence was  that  he  knew  it  was  not  stupidity.  Once  or 
twice  when  she  had  chosen  to  exert  a  certain  charm  of  her 
own,  he  had  never  felt  less  bored.  "  But  I  have  no  doubt," 
he  went  on,  "  that  our  shining  hours  might  be  better  em- 
ployed than  learning  to  play  a  no-trumps  hand  not  wisely  but 
too  well ! " 

"  I  am  very  dull  to-night !  "  said  Patrica,  rousing  herself 


78  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

with  a  laugh.  "  It  is  reducing  even  you  to  platitudes.  Sup- 
pose you  give  me  a  cigarette,  and  tell  me  something  about 
yourself !  " 

Smoking  was  the  only  custom  of  Lady  Vera's  set  to  which 
Patricia  had  taken  kindly — possibly  because  she  had  learned 
long  ago  at  school,  where  she  and  Chiffon,  with  a  guilty  joy, 
smuggled  cigarettes  into  St.  Clare's  through  the  agency  of 
various  masculine  admirers. 

"  Oh  !  is  that  your  idea  of  entire  consolation  ?  You  have  a 
high  idea  of  men.  Nougat !  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  you  merely  misunderstand  my  selfish- 
ness. When  people  are  so  unfortunate  as  to  interest  me,  I 
always  make  them  talk  about  themselves  !  " 

It  was  his  turn  to  laugh,  and  his  laugh  was  charming. 
Without  being  any  less  loud  than  Blais  Heron's,  it  had  the 
heartiness  of  a  boy's  and  the  cheerfulness  of  a  philosopher's 
— something  of  its  irony  too. 

He  stretched  out  a  hand  and  drew  Patricia's  cloak  over 
her  shoulder  again,  caressingly. 

"  You  are  a  thorough  fraud ! "  he  said.  "  You  are  not 
in  the  least  interested  in  me.  All  you  want  is  to  avoid 
telling  me  of  what  you  were  really  thinking  when  I  spoke 
to  you.'^ 

"  I  have  always  observed  that  if  one  does  tell  the  truth 
one  is  sure  to  be  disbelieved !  I  told  you  the  strict  truth. 
I  was  thinking  of  the  relative  positions  of  that — that  tramp 
across  the  road  and  ourselves,  and  wondering  why  he  should 
have  to  hover  at  park  gates  while  we  sat  on  balconies.  A 
purely  radical  and  abstract  speculation,  you  see !  Probably 
not  nearly  so  interesting  as  your  own  thoughts.  What  were 
you  thinking  at  the  moment  ?  " 

"  I  wonder  if  I  dare  tell  you  ?  "  said  Lexiter  in  open  amuse- 
ment. Then  with  an  accentuation  of  the  graceful  insolence — 
"  I  was  wondering  how  long  your  hair  was  when  it  was 
down ! "  he  said. 

"  How  very  impertinent !  Only,  I  do  not  believe  it  for  an 
instant.     You  were  wondering  if  it  were  all  my  own !  " 

"  Perhaps  I  was !  My  experience  of  most  women  is  that 
hair  is  one  of  the  subjects  on  which  they  think  it  righteous 
to  tell  a  lie.  It's  an  awful  shock  when  you  find  out ! "  he 
added  suddenly,  with  an  evil  reminiscence  running  through 
the  amusement  of  his  tone. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  79 

Patricia  relapsed  into  one  of  her  serene  silences.  She  had 
a  way  of  mentally  closing  the  shutters  over  her  intelligence 
at  anything  like  a  hint  of  indecency  that  made  the  real  barrier 
to  any  further  intimacy  with  her  from  Lexiter's  point  of  view. 
But  that  he  had  not  realised.  All  he  knew  was  that  he 
seemed  to  have  lost  her  attention  again  without  any  reason, 
for  she  was  certainly  listening  to  the  Bridge  players  rather 
than  to  him, 

"  Aim6e,  what  on  earth  made  you  lead  through  the 
strength  ? " 

"  My  dear,  I  had  nothing  in  my  hand.  It  was  '  rotten,'  as 
Bobby  Harbinger  says.  How  many  honours  on  the  table, 
Ernie  ?  " 

"  Two.  Simple  to  us.  I  say,  Vee,  your  luck  has  stood 
you  out  to-night !  " 

"  My  partner  had  the  sense  to  leave  the  declarations  to 
me  ! ''  said  Lady  Vera  brusquely.  "  You  are  like  all  men — 
you  are  too  fond  of  your  own  judgment.  If  I  had  been 
Aimee  I  should  have  ragged  you.  Twice  you've  lost  a  no- 
trump  hand  by  sticking  to  your  own  diamonds." 

"  I  can't  play  a  no-trump  hand  with  nothing  in  my  own  to 
win,"  said  Blais  Heron  sulkily.     "  It  wants  practice." 

"  It  wants  pluck !  "  said  Lady  Vera  with  a  hard  laugh. 
"  As  the  old  Duchess  said  when  the  Harbinger  baby  came : 
'  Chiffon,  my  dear,  remember  that  the  Lord  made  you  a 
Yardleigh,  and  ask  Him  for  courage — it's  their  perquisite  ! '  " 

There  was  a  louder  laugh. 

"  Poor  little  woman !  She  needed  all  her  perquisites  I 
should  think,"  said  Lady  D'Aulnoy.  "  She  had  an  awfully 
bad  time.  Bobby  walked  up  and  down  Park  Lane  with  a 
golf-cap  hindside  before  and  a  distracted  air  until  three  in 
the  morning,  and  my  husband  found  him  at  last  being 
shadowed  by  two  policemen,  and  took  him  home  and  merci- 
fully made  him  drunk — so  he  says." 

"  They  say  she'll  never  have  another  ! " 

"  Bobby's  awfully  fond  of  her !  " 

"  So  are  other  people !  "  remarked  Blais  Heron  with  a 
glance  at  the  open  window,  and  a  not  particularly  lowered 
tone.  He  dealt  the  cards  skilfully  round  with  lightning  ease, 
ran  his  eye  over  his  own  hand,  and  said  "  Spades ! "  all  in 
one  breath. 

"  I  hope  I  am  not  too  prejudiced,"  said  Patricia  thought- 


8o  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

fully,  her  anger  so  controlled  that  Lexiter  hardly  suspected 
it,  "  but  there  are  times  when  I  feel  I  should  like  to  send 
Ernest  Blais  Heron  back  to  school !  " 

"Why?" 

"  I  think  he  was  not  kicked  often  or  hard  enough  while 
there ! " 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  laughing  at  like  that,  Car  ?  "  Lady 
Vera  called  through  the  window,  a  touch  of  suspicion  in  her 
hard  voice.  Like  all  people  whose  wit  is  always  at  the  ex- 
pense of  others,  she  mistrusted  her  friends'  humour  in  her 
turn. 

"  Oh,  nothing — a  new  education  scheme  of  Nougat's !  "  he 
called  back.  "Poor  fellow!"  he  added  to  Patricia,  his 
broad  shoulders  still  shaking,  "  what  has  he  done  to  rouse 
you  to  such  vindictiveness  ?  " 

"  I  object  to  bad  manners  ! "  said  Patricia  curtly.  "  Give 
me  a  light,  please.     This  thing  has  gone  out." 

As  he  struck  the  match  he  looked  at  her  through  the 
momentary  blaze,  and  deliberately  laid  his  hand  holding  it 
against  the  one  which  she  had  stretched  out  with  the 
cigarette.  Patricia's  large  brown  eyes  met  his  for  a  moment 
with  cold  curiosity.  Then  the  hand  that  was  holding  the 
cigarette  dropped  quietly  to  her  lap. 

"  Will  you  kindly  give  me  the  box  of  matches  ?  "  she  said 
composedly.  "And — another  time  please  do  not  make 
mistakes." 

"  Hulloa,  you  two ! "  said  Mrs.  Blais  Heron,  stepping  sud- 
denly out  of  the  window  behind  Lexiter.  "  What  are  you 
doing  ?  Holding  each  other's  hands  in  the  dark  ?  Don't  get 
up,  Car." 

"  I  don't  know  where  you  are  to  sit  unless  I  do ! "  said 
Lexiter  with  his  usual  impertinence.  "  The  edge  of  the 
balcony  or  my  knee  is  the  only  alternative !  " 

"  Bubeasustut !  Bubeasustut !  "  said  Mrs.  Blais  Heron, 
raising  her  pretty  dark  doll  face  for  a  light  to  the  cigarette 
he  mutely  offered,  and  not  shrinking  at  all  from  the  hand 
that  touched  hers  or  the  face  bent  nearly  to  her  own.  "  Isn't 
he  a  beast.  Nougat?" 

"  Certainly — if  you  think  so  !  "  said  Patricia  indifferently. 
"  I  should  not  care  to  own  to  such  an  experience  of  him,  how- 
ever !  " 

"Why?" 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  8i 

"  I  think  it  is  generally  one's  own  fault  if  a  man  is  anything 
but  what  one  wishes  him  to  be." 

The  minute  the  words  were  out  of  her  mouth  she  feared 
that  she  might  hurt  the  woman  in  striking  at  the  man ;  but 
she  need  not  have  troubled.  Mrs.  Blais  Heron  laughed  an 
uncomprehending  little  laugh  and  dropped  into  the  seat 
Lexiter  had  vacated. 

"  Oh,  Nougat !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You  are  such  a  dar ! — 
but  you  don't  understand  women,  nowadays  !  They  like  men 
to  be  beasts — it's  so  much  easier  to  get  on  with  them !  " 


82 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  And  he  said,  '  I  will  take  this  honour 
For  my  life  and  its  single  span  ; 
And  the  peerage  your  Liege  has  given 

I  will  bear  it  as  subject  can — 
But  God  gave  the  first  great  title 
When  he  called  me  simply  a  Man  ! ' " 

The  Inheritance. 

"  A  LONG  experience  of  chimney  sweeps,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Leroy,  pensively,  "  induces  in  me  the  belief  that  they  have 
no  morals ! " 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  could  expect,"  said  Vaughan,  cross- 
ing one  leg  over  the  other  and  fixing  the  eyeglass  yet  more 
firmly  in  his  left  eye.  "  The  only  people  who  have  morals 
are  those  who  are  never  proved  to  have  none.  A  chimney 
sweep's  trade  betrays  him  the  very  instant  he  kisses  your 
housemaid — whom  I  presume  brought  the  hot  water  with  a 
smudge  on  her  cheek  this  morning?" 

"  Phaugh !  "  said  Mrs.  Leroy  lightly.  "  Do  you  think  I 
should  be  so  foolish  as  to  trouble  my  head  over  the  bad 
taste  of  my  servant?  If  she  liked  to  dirty  her  face  by  kiss- 
ing a  soiled  man,  I  am  sorry  for  her,  that  is  all.  It  is  a  dis- 
gusting idea,  by  the  way,  isn't  it  ?  But  I  should  only  suppose, 
out  loud,  that  she  had  blacked  her  face  in  doing  the  grates, 
and  advise  her  to  clean  it." 

"  Even  your  virtues  are  only  the  result  of  good  taste !  " 
said  Vaughan  accusingly.  "  I  have  always  remarked  it  in 
you.  What  was  the  sweep's  crime  in  your  immoral  point 
of  view  ?  " 

"  He  promised  faithfully  to  come  on  Tuesday,  at  six 
o'clock.     The  servants  put  ever}thing  ready  for  him,  but  he 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  83 

did  not  come.  Then  I  went  and  wailed  at  his  door,  and 
he  said  that  he  had  lost  his  dog,  and  had  had  to  look  for 
it — or  else  his  wife  was  dead,"  added  Fate  in  her  pretty  soft 
voice,  musingly.  "  I  forget  which  it  was.  As  if  /  cared 
if  he  had  lost  a  dozen  dogs !  " 

"I  have  never,"  said  Vaughan  in  an  exasperated  tone, 
"  known  any  one  so  long  in  coming  to  the  crux  of  a  story ! 
We  have  been  walking  round  the  universe  with  your  sweep 
for  twenty  minutes.  Do  pull  yourself  together  and  explain 
what  it  really  was  that  he  did." 

"  I  am  telling  you  as  fast  as  possible !  Don't  hurry  me 
over  my  preliminaries — they  are  my  strong  point.  No  one 
tells  a  story  with  more  enjoyment  of  their  own  humour  than 
I !  The  sweep  came  this  morning  at  nine — at  nine,  you 
understand ! " 

"Well,  I  suppose  Eldred  had  just  set  oflF  for  the  City, 
and  so  the  parting  on  the  doorstep  was  not  disturbed,"  said 
Vaughan  with  due  consideration,  and  the  faintest  shadow 
of  a  discomfort  which  he  was  ashamed  to  call  envy.  "Very 
considerate  of  the  sweep,  on  the  whole ! " 

"  He  would  have  been  much  more  considerate  if  he  had 
come  at  six  as  I  told  him !  T  was  going  for  a  ride  with  one 
of  the  Durhams — Saydie,  the  second  girl — and  wanted  to 
get  out  before  the  heat,  and  so  I  had  to  leave  the  maids  to 
manage  him  and  get  straight,  because  I  had  people  to  lunch." 

"Saydie  is  the  girl  with  a  flattened  face,  isn't  she?"  said 
Gerald  musingly.  He  looked  appreciatively  across  the  little 
tea-table  at  Mrs.  Leroy,  sitting  under  the  pear-tree  in  the 
narrow  back  garden  that  stood  for  Eden  as  well  as  the  largest 
in  England.  From  the  bicycle  shed  at  a  little  distance  came 
the  whirr  of  chains  and  the  sound  of  someone  groping  about, 
which  indicated  Eldred  cleaning  his  Rudge-Whitworth. 
Gerald  Vaughan,  picturing  Saydie  Durham,  gazed  in  the 
meantime  at  Fate  Leroy — whose  face  was  not  flattened. 

"  Saydie  is  supposed  to  be  the  best-looking  of  the  family," 
remarked  Fate  idly.     "Don't  you  think  her  pretty?" 

"  Of  course  not.     Her  mother  sat  on  her  and  spoilt  her !  " 

They  both  laughed,  and  Fate  settled  herself  a  trifle  more 
comfortably  in  her  seat.  Vaughan's  wits  were  of  a  kind 
that  appealed  to  her,  though  her  circle  was  incomplete  at 
the  present  moment  because  of  Eldred's  material  energies 
keeping  him  in  the  cycle  shed. 

6» 


84  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

"Eldred!"  she  called  suddenly,  across  the  grass.  "Do 
come  and  have  tea — ^your  hands  will  be  so  dirty,  dear !  " 

A  muffled  voice  answered  cheerily  that  they  need  not  wait 
— in  three  seconds — only  the  bearings !  screw  loose — wash 
them  first! 

"  My  husband's  hands  are  always  disgraceful !  "  said  Fate, 
with  such  obvious  fondness  and  indulgence  that  the  man  at 
her  side  laughed  a  little  vexedly  and  then  sighed.  "When 
they  are  not  stained  with  tobacco  they  are  with  bicycle  oil. 
But  he  enjoys  himself  quite  beautifully  taking  things  to 
pieces  and  putting  them  together  again.  Sometimes  I  think 
he  would  really  like  me  to  be  mechanical.  He  could  find  out 
how  I  worked,  so  much  better  !  " 

"  No  man  can  find  out  how  a  woman  works — she  is  a 
patent  known  only  to  her  Creator!  "  said  Vaughan  grimly. 
"  Who  lunched  with  you  beside  Miss  Durham  ?  " 
"  Mrs.  Rodney  and  Patricia  Momington." 
"  Again !  " 

"  She  looked  perfectly  beautiful !  "  said  Fate  with  kindly 
enthusiasm  and  no  notice  of  his  nasty  tone.  "  I  simply  sat 
and  looked  at  her  in  pure  delight,  though  she  made  all  of 
us  insignificant  in  contrast  to  herself.  When  she  comes  into 
a  room  I  want  to  gasp,  and  then  I  sit  down  and  revel 
merely  in  her  looks." 

"  It  sounds  as  if  her  conversation  hardly  equalled  them. 
I  cannot  say  that  I  thought  it  did,  on  the  occasion  when  I 
met  her  here.  She  struck  me  as  having  a  maid  who  dressed 
hair  very  well,  and  wearing  a  fifty-guinea  gown.  She  is 
the  kind  of  woman  I  frankly  detest ! " 

"That  is  absurd,  Gerald,  and  simply  because  you  do  not 
know  her.  On  the  day  you  met  her  she  was  very  absent 
because  we  had  been  discussing  things  that  touched  her 
intimately,  and  she  hardly  roused  herself  to  more  than  the 
conventional  attention  one  gives  to  any  stranger.  She  is 
not  at  all  a  happy  woman !  " 

Vaughan  raised  his  brows.  "  She  will  have  about  a  million 
and  a  half,  if  not  more,  one  day,"  he  said  cynically.  "  Hap- 
piness is  of  course  a  relative  quality,  but  I  could  purchase  a 
fair  amount  with  her  thousands,  myself." 

"You  do  not  know.  And  even  if  that  is  so,  I  doubt  if 
her  wealth,  when  it  makes  her  indenendent,  will  compensate 
her  for  spending  the  best  years  of  her  life  in  totally  uncon- 


AS    YE:  HAVE   SOWN.  85 

genial  surroundings.  There  is  such  a  change  in  her  from 
the  girl  we  knew  in  Madeira  that  it  says  more  for  her  present 
associations  than  anything  she  could  tell  me.  Every  time 
she  comes  down  to  see  me  I  find  her  a  little  harder,  a  little 
more  mature,  a  little  more  cynically  indifferent.  I  think 
she  is  so  disillusioned  that  she  will  drift  into  a  disastrous 
marriage.'" 

"  I  do  Miss  Mornington  all  injustice,"  said  Vaughan  slowly, 
"for  I  do  not  like  her.  (Prejudice,  no  doubt — but  I  don't.) 
But  even  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  shall  never  see  her  name 
in  the  Divorce  Court.     She  is  not  of  that  kind." 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  mean  that !  That  would  be  an  obvious 
kind  of  crash  that  might  have  the  elements  of  salvation  in 
it.  Patricia  is  far  too  proud  and  far  too  much  mistress  of 
herself  to  deign  to  such  a  thing.  She  might  feel  an  utter 
contempt  for  her  husband ;  but  she  certainly  would  not  lower 
her  own  standard  sufficiently  to  feel  an  utter  contempt  for 
herself  as  a  divorced  woman !  " 

"  You  speak  in  enigmas,  and  the  day  is  too  hot  to  guess 
riddles.  What  is  the  real  crumpled  rose  leaf  in  the  lot  of 
this  Princess  of  fortune  ?  " 

"  Poor  Princess !  with  not  a  single  subject  worthy  to  do 
her  honour!  Patricia  has  been  brought  up  in  all  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  old  aristocracy,  and  she  is  now  plunged  into 
the  cheap  smartness  of  one  of  the  fastest  sets  in  town,  that 
is  all." 

"  The  '  Smart  Set '  in  fact,  whatever  that  mysterious  thing 
may  be ! " 

"  I  didn't  think  it  existed !  "  said  Mrs.  Leroy  serenely.  "  I 
always  regarded  it  as  a  bogey  set  up  by  a  Middle-Class  Press 
to  flatter  a  Middle-Class  Public!  Of  course  one  little  group 
of  people  related  to  each  other,  or  intimately  acquainted, 
may  be  fast  and  vulgar  in  their  own  peculiar  way — there  are 
probably  plenty  of  such  circles  amongst  the  mass  of  London 
society,  and  they  may  or  may  not  know  each  other.  All  the 
outcry  of  late  against  the  '  Smart  Set '  has  almost  materialised 
it,  but  I  don't  believe  that  it  has  any  foundation  beyond  a 
few  silly  women  here  and  there  who  want  to  be  notorieties 
and  have  no  other  way  of  compassing  it!  The  people  in 
Lady  Vera's  circle,  for  instance,  are  simply  self-indulgent; 
she  herself  may  be  called  fast,  but  it  is  because  she  wants 
to  do  as  she  pleases,  and  not  because  it  is  the  fashion." 


86  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

"  I  cannot  quite  see  why  to  do  as  she  pleases  should  be  a 
tendency  to  bad  manners !  " 

"  Nor  can  I,  but  unfortunately  it  appears  to  be  the  case. 
Anyhow  it  is  having  a  very  bad  effect  on  Patricia.  She  is 
so  sore  at  having  her  most  sacred  beliefs  outraged,  that  she 
is  not  even  just  to  her  own  class,  now." 

"  No ;  nor  should  I  be,  save  to  give  them  justice  without 
mercy.  The  '  class '  of  which  you  speak  is  one  I  utterly  and 
totally  abominate.  The  present  aristocracy  of  England — so- 
called — with  every  advantage  on  their  side,  have  hardly  a 
virtue  to  their  credit.  I  am  not  particularising  the  '  Smart ' 
people  whom  you  have  just  demolished.  I  am  speaking 
more  sweepingly  still,  of  what  remains  of  the  great  families 
as  well  as  the  *  mushrooms '  of  the  last  century.  It  is  not 
their  monals  that  I  quarrel  with,  but  their  manners — not 
their  wealth,  buf-wiiat. they  have  done  with  it!  " 

Fate  clasped  her  pretty  hands  round  her  knee  and  stared 
with  exquisite  unwinking  grey  eyes  into  the  middle  distance. 
When  she  was  feasting  her  brain  upon  a  problem,  and  about 
to  pronounce  judgment,  Vaughan  found  her  most  astonish- 
ing, for  he  had  never  really  recognised  her  as  a  clever 
woman,  but  had  been  better  content  with  her  mental  adroit- 
ness as  fitted  to  his  own  irritability.  A  man  is  pleased  to 
grant  a  woman  brams  so  long  as  they  are  applied  to  his 
own  necessity,  and  Vaughan  was  only  inclined  to  look  upon 
Fate  Leroy  with  indulgent  tenderness  when  she  began  to 
exhibit  a  power  of  reason  he  could  not  deny.  She  was 
certainly  able  to  assert  an  opinion  upon  politics  as  well  as 
upon  hairpins,  and  he  was  on  the  whole  rather  proud  of  her, 
innocently  conceiving  his  own  acknowledgment  as  having 
discovered  her  capability. 

"  It  is  so  unfair,"  Mrs.  Leroy  began  suddenly,  following 
her  own  train  of  thought,  "to  judge  the  Upper  Classes,  as  we 
call  them,  by  the  same  standard  as  that  of  the  Middle  Class. 
For  generations  we  have  been  breeding  our  Aristocracy  as 
undeniably  as  we  do  our  horses — and  with  far  less  good 
results,  because  we  will  not  honestly  say  even  that  we  hope 
to  improve  the  stock.  Yet  we  make  unwritten  laws  for  them, 
which  are  now  such  a  tradition  that  they  are  ashamed  to 
break  them.  The  first  commandment  we  ever  gave  them 
is  '  Thou  shalt  not  work ! '  and  they  have  kept  it  only  too 
religiously.     At    the  root    of    all    the   sturdy   pride    of   the 


PAS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  87 

Bourgeoisie  of  England — the  Middle  Class,  to  which  we 
ought  to  be  proud  to  belong ! — is  an  irradicable  awe  and 
admiration  for.  the  Aristocracy.  It  is  a  kind  of  religion  with 
us — we  would  rather  hear  about  their  vices,  in  reality,  than 
our  own  healthy  virtues.  The  result  is  that  we  have 
gradually  demanded  nothing  of  them  save  that  they  should 
be  like  pampered  pets,  kept  for  our  recreation ! " 

Vaughan's  face,  throughout  her  tirade,  had  been  growing 
more  and  more  restive.  His  nervous  fingers  had  twice 
screwed  the  eye-glass  a  little  further  into  his  eye,  and  he 
was  obviously  going  to  contradict.  His  reply  began  with 
such  a  well-worn  formula  that  Fate  laughed  in  spite  of  her 
earnestness.  She  knew  it  well — he  alw^ays  used  it  when  he 
did  not  agree. 

"  Pardon  me,   but  that  is  not  at  all  so !     In  the  Middle 

Class,  if  you  like  to  range  yourself  with  shopkeepers " 

"  But,  Gerald,  it  is  such  a  vast  term !  The  Middle  Class 
reaches  from  the  small  ambitious  tradesmen,  dragging  him- 
self out  of  poverty,  to  the  professional  and  oJSficial  classes 
now — yes,  and  hardly  excludes  small  county  magnates  1  " 

"Well,  the  Middle  Class,  if  you  will!  We  are  not  such 
snobs  as  to  respect  anything  with  a  handle  to  its  name,  or 

a  certain  rent-roll.     I  protest " 

"No!  no!  You  don't  understand  me.  We  are  not 
snobs,  but  idealists.  We  look  at  these  people  through  a 
certain  glamour,  and  we  cannot  really  bear  to  think  of  them 
as  anything  but  magnificent  and  luxurious.  We  boast  by 
our  Aristocracy — yes,  even  by  their  sins!  And  it  is  all  our 
fault  that  they  are  what  they  are.  We  have  tacitly  said  that 
we  will  have  a  nobility  in  England  which  is  kept  in  glass  cases, 
like  householders  proud  of  the  exotics  in  their  hothouses. 
That  we  can  afford  to  support  our  reigning  House  is  a 
National  cry,  and  we  point  to  our  stupid,  self-indulgent 
Peerage  as  a  proof  of  the  best  type  of  Englishman !  " 

"  I  differ  from  you  entirely,"  said  Vaughan  with  irritable 
energy.  "  If  we  acknowledge  that  our  constitution  and 
national  character  necessitates  a  semi-feudal  state  of  society 
still,  at  least  we  expect  decency  and  an  example  from  our 
Upper  Classes."  (He  bit  the  last  words  as  if  still  a  little 
distasteful.) 

"  But  how  in  the  world  can  we  expect  them  to  live  decently, 
according    to    our    own   standard?      For   generations    these 


88  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

people  have  been  over-feeding,  and  over-training,  according 
to  certain  traditions,  and  heating  their  blood,  while  our  men 
have  had  to  work  with  brains  if  not  body,  and  have  inherited 
temperance  as  their  natural  right.  We  breed  our  Aristocracy 
as  we  do  our  racehorses,  as  I  said  before.  Do  you  expect 
morality  from  a  racehorse  ?  " 

Gerald's  face  underwent  some  sort  of  a  momentary  shock, 
as  though  he  found  Fate's  power  of  reason  and  argument 
leading  them  into  speculations  incompatible  with  his  feminine 
ideals.  The  expression  went  out  of  his  eyes  and  left 
them  blank.  He  was  so  obviously  going  to  close  the  ques- 
tion as  one  not  to  be  discussed  with  her  that  she  was 
roused  into  saying  what  she  had  to  say  in  spite  of  his  tacit 
resistance. 

"  It  is  not  just  to  make  this  sudden  outcry  against  the 
present  immorality  in  Society,"  she  said  earnestly.  "Nor 
is  it  even  true  from  the  majority  of  people.  We  are  not 
really  shocked — we  are  glad  to  have  a  chance  of  discussing 
circles  of  which  we  know  nothing,  more  outspokenly  than 
before.  We  go  to  plays  which  exaggerate  the  chimerical 
*  Smart  Set,'  and  talk  and  talk  about  them  with  a  keen 
relish,  and  we  read  silly  books  by  people  who  know  as  little 
as  we  do,  and  plume  ourselves  on  our  own  virtues,  while  we 
secretly  admire  these  supposed  vices.  There  has  never  been 
so  much  irresponsible  wealth  as  at  the  present  time  in  Eng- 
land— property  is  not  represented  by  land,  which  gave  the 
owners  a  stake  in  the  soil,  and  responsibiUties ;  it  is  all 
stocks  and  shares  nowadays,  'invested  money'  producing 
an  income  from  dividends  without  any  counterbalance  of 
personal  effort,  beyond  watching  the  markets !  The  rich  have 
nothing  to  do  except  spend  their  money,  and  get  into  mis- 
chief. And  then  we  hold  up  our  hands  in  horror,  and  say 
that  Society  is  rotten.  If  it  is,  we  need  not  blame  the  victims 
of  which  it  is  composed.  They  are  just  as  much  injured  as 
ourselves." 

"  Eldred !  "  called  Vaughan,  raising  his  characteristic  voice 
with  the  croak  intensified,  "come  and  have  tea  now;  there's 
a  good  fellow !     You  really  must !  " 

Fate  subsided  in  a  sudden  ripple  of  laughter.  "  Never 
mind !  You  have  not  heard  the  last  of  my  theories  even 
yet !  "  she  said.  Then  as  a  figure  slowly  emerged  from  the 
cycle  shed,  brushing  dust  off  its  sleeves  and  shaking  itself 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  89 

into  a  recently-acquired  coat,  she  began  to  busy  herself  at 
the  tea-table  with  an  entirely  feminine  air  of  absorption. 

"  May  I  ask  if  you  made  all  those  astounding  assertions 
to  Miss  Mornington  at  luncheon?"  asked  Vaughan  abruptly. 

"  Not  at  luncheon — afterwards,  out  here  under  the  trees," 
corrected  Fate  quietly.  "  I  said  all  that  and  more.  I  hope 
Patricia  has  something  new  to  think  about,  at  least.  She 
made  me  a  little  angry  by  the  aloofness  of  her  mental  atti- 
tude. She  is  rather  narrow  in  her  point  of  view,  owing  to 
her  education,  and  instead  of  making  her  own  world  she  is 
simply  drawing  back  into  herself  and  looking  on  at  the  one 
made  for  her  in  passive  disgust.  With  her  position  and 
beauty  what  would  I  not  do !  "  said  Fate  with  a  sudden 
restless  stir  of  all  her  figure,  as  if  her  energies  awoke.  "  I 
would  influence  these  empty,  idle  men  and  women  so  that 
they  should  unconsciously  become  what  I  wanted,  or  else 
drop  out  of  my  life.  Anyhow  I  would  not  be  a  cipher!" 
Her  eyes,  full  of  cold  intelligence,  suddenly  fell  upon  her 
husband  advancing  over  the  grass  with  a  guilty  consciousness 
of  his  stained  hands,  and  all  the  remote  ambition  died  out 
of  her  face,  before  a  most  beautiful  glow  of  undisguisable 
happiness.  She  looked  up  at  him  and  laughed,  as  if  at  a 
child. 

''  Darling,  do  look  at  your  hands !  "  she  said.  "  And  your 
coat!" 

"  I  know,  Babs — I  must  go  and  wash  and  brush  myself. 
Just  pour  out  my  tea,  will  you?  Shan't  be  a  minute, 
Gerald !  " 

"  You  will  never  be  a  woman  without  influence ! "  said 
Gerald  Vaughan  slowly,  as  Leroy  swung  off  across  the  grass 
towards  the  house.  "  You  will  always  have  a  circle  to  rule, 
where  you  will  be  a  queen ! " 

"  Ah,  but  you  misjudge  my  influence !  "  Fate  exclaimed 
with  a  sudden  and  most  becoming  flush  of  excitement  in  her 
cheeks.  You  think,  because  you  see  me  a  little  better 
dressed  (according  to  what  happens  to  be  your  taste!)  than 
other  women  about  here  whom  you  have  met,  that  an  obvious 
superiority  is  all  that  I  want.  You  are  quite  wrong!  I 
have  perhaps  a  little  more  leisure  than  they,  and  a  little 
more  money  to  spend,  because  I  have  no  children,  and  so 
I  can  indulge  myself  and  make  a  better  effect.  But  the 
reason  you  think  me  superior  is  because  you  like  those  women 


go  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

so  much,  and  yet  find  me  a  little  better  still.  Don't  you 
realise  that  it  is  there  that  my  real  power  lies  ?  1  have  made 
my  world,  even  in  this  small  corner  of  it  called  Sunnington. 
That  girl  to-day — Patricia  Mornington — told  me  quite  simply 
that  if  my  circle  were  the  Upper  Middle  Class  it  was  in- 
finitely better  bred  and  better  educated  than  the  one  where 
she  unwillingly  finds  herself.  But  dear  me!  it  is  simply 
because  I  have  gathered  the  nice  women  round  me,  and  left 
out  the  dull  and  stupid  people !  " 

She  paused,  almost  breathless,  laughing  a  little  and  half 
ashamed  of  her  own  acknowledgment — too  pretty  withal  for 
any  man  to  quarrel  with  her  for  her  frankness.  Besides 
which  Vaughan  knew  that  it  was  true. 

"There  are  dull  and  hopeless  beasts  in  all  classes  of 
society,"  he  said.  "  But  to  confess  myself  a  snob  I  must 
own  to  a  hankering  after  the  class  above  me!  They  have 
at  least  the  opportunities  I  have  always  lacked." 

"  Oh,    if  you   mean  a  certain  inheritance  of  good  taste, 

and  money  to  carry  it  through !     But  you  do  not 

realise  Patricia's  desolation.  Her  '  set '  are  carefully  bred 
swine — excellent  of  their  class.  Well,  one  knows  that  the 
breeding  of  pigs  is  a  hobby  with  some  landowners,  and  the 
carefully  nurtured,  well-selected  pig  makes  better  bacon  than 
the  wild  hog !  "  Her  dainty  disgust  suddenly  altered  from 
mockery  to  earnestness.  "  Oh,  Gerald,  the  panacea  for  all 
ills  is  Work!  You  rail  against  it  because  it  has  hampered 
your  inclinations,  and  made  you  feel  the  long  years  tedious. 
But  it  has  really  curbed  and  controlled  you,  and  moulded 
you  to  a  man.  Do  you  notice  that  the  younger  sons  of  good 
families  are  generally  the  best  of  them?  Don't  you  see  that 
is  because  they  have  had  to  make  their  way — to  do  some- 
thing to  develop  the  original  grit?  I  admit  the  grit  (yes! 
I  believe  in  the  breeding  of  bone  and  muscle  and  blood 
and  brains !),  but  the  man  who  takes  the  title,  or  the  wealth, 
or  the  position,  is  not  really  such  a  good  fellow  as  his  younger 
brother," 

"  Who  generally  goes  to  the  deuce,  and  proves  the  worst 
blackguard  of  the  lot !  "  added  Vaughan  cynically.  "  Given 
a  man  brought  up  in  imitation  of  his  more  fortunate  elder, 
with  the  same  tastes,  and  the  same  appetites,  is  it  likely  that 
just  because  of  a  twist  of  fortune  he  should  rise  to  his 
obligations   and   become  a  model  of  hard  work  and   self- 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  91 

denial  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it !  He  grumbles  at  fate  in  his  heart, 
feels  how  hard  his  lines  are,  and  as  a  compensation  spends 
the  money  he  might  have  inherited,  and  ruins  his  family !  " 
She  laughed  a  vexed  little  laugh.  "  I  am  an  idealist — 
that  is  what  you  are  going  to  say !  Yet  I  stili  believe  in  our 
English  '  stock  ' — in  spite  of  the  disapproval  of  my  expres- 
sions which  I  see  in  your  underlip!  I  have  one  ally  in 
Patricia  Mornington's  world,  Gerald — one  I  shall  probably 
never  meet.  But  he  is  proving  the  text  of  all  my  sermons 
to  her,  and  is  an  incontrovertible  example  of  a  younger 
son  who  proved  his  mettle,  and  when  he  came  into  an 
unexpected  title  was  the  truer  nobleman  for  his  hard  work !  " 
"And  this  paragon ?"  Vaughan's  eye-glass  looked  in- 
credulity. 

"  It  is  the  Duke  of  London.  He  is  the  only  person  among 
her  acquaintances  over  whom  Patricia  softens.  She  speaks 
of  him  in  a  different  tone  from  that  she  uses  for  her  mother's 
friends,  and  just  now  he  means  her  hope  of  salvation  to 
her ! " 

"  He  is  an  elderly  man,  isn't  he  ?  He  owns  half  Ballington, 
the  great  South  Suburb  where  so  many  engineering  works 
are.  I  know  of  him  in  consequence,  by  hearsay.  He  is  a 
good  landlord." 

"  He  is  not  only  an  elderly  man,  but  he  is  hopelessly 
crippled  by  rheumatism.  When  he  was  a  younger  son  he 
went  out  to  East  Africa  and  lived  in  a  swamp  and  grew  rice. 
The  rice  prospered,  but  the  poor  cultivator  did  not.  He 
laid  up  trouble  for  himself  in  the  future.  Then  his  elder 
brother  died,  and  another  brother  was  shot  by  accident  in 
stalking  deer,  and  the  present  Duke  was  sent  for  home  in 
a  hurry  to  wear  strawberry  leaves.  He  belongs  to  the  old 
type  of  aristocracy,  like  Lady  Helen,  and  Patricia  believes 
that  when  she  goes  to  Heaven  she  will  find  him  there,  enter- 
taining a  select  house  party  consisting  of  no  one  at  all  whom 
she  knows  just  now !  " 

"  How  very  charming !  She  must  be  a  most  delightful 
member  of  any  circle,  mustn't  she?  Having  damned  them 
all  beforehand !  The  Duke,  by  the  way,  is  a  poor  man  for 
his  position,  I  doubt  if  he  has  thirty  thousand  a  year. — Here 
comes  Eldred,  sweet  with  soap,  but  no  cleaner !  Do  we  ride 
after  tea,  Eldred?" 

"  Babs  and  I  will  see  you  home,  lest  you  should  wander 


92  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

on  your  little  fairy  feet ! "  said  Leroy  gaily,  sitting  down  by 
his  wife's  side,  and  wrinkling  up  his  face  in  answer  to  her 
laughter. 

"  His  little  fairy  wheels,  you  mean — dear  silly  person !  " 
she  said,  and  two  delicious  dimples  mocked  the  serene  grey 
eyes  above  them.  "  I  have  been  trying  to  convert  Gerald  to 
Patricia  Mornington,  and  he  still  hates  her,  Eldred.  Don't 
let  us  mention  her  name  any  more — it  is  casting  pearls  before 
swine !  " 

"  No,  but  by  Jove !  she  is  a  nice  girl !  "  said  Eldred  with 
sunny  appreciation.  "  She  dined  with  us  the  other  night, 
and  helped  Babs  water  the  ferns  afterwards  without  the 
least  hesitation.  She  never  puts  on  side.  She  just  pinned 
up  her  gown,  and  said  she  was  going  to  help.  And  then 
she  came  into  the  drawing-room  and  sat  there  for  two  hours, 
and  made  me  sing.  I  thought  she  would  be  awfully  bored 
at  last !  " 

"  Oh,  of  course,  if  she  flattered  you  with  unlimited  atten- 
tion, I  don't  wonder  that  you  thought  her  a  nice  girl,"  said 
Vaughan,  in  his  cross,  soft  voice.  "  I  will  have  another 
cup  of  tea,  please,  Fate." 

"  No,  you  will  not !  "  said  Fate  perversely.  "  It  is  very 
bad  for  you  just  before  riding.  I  am  going  to  change  my 
skirt,  Eldred.  Don't  eat  too  many  buttered  cakes,  darling, 
because  I  should  so  hate  you  to  be  fat.  Oh,  that  reminds 
me ! "  She  drew  the  fine  lawn  handkerchief  from  the  waist- 
band where  she  had  tucked  it,  and  tied  the  customary  knot 
in  the  corner  with  an  absent  expression.  Vaughan  watched 
her,  his  face  half  aggravated,  half  resentfully  fond  of  her 
very  characteristics. 

"What  is  it  for  this  time?"  he  demanded.  "Another 
sweep,  or  somebody's  new  nursemaid,  or  the  ubiquitous 
Miss  Mornington?" 

"None  of  them — it  is  my  own  personal  house-pride.  I 
am  going  up  to  town  to  buy  table  linen  in  the  Sales,  and 
endure  all  their  horrors,  just  for  the  sake  of  saving  twopence 
halfpenny!  No  one  can  deny  that  I  am  a  good  wife  after 
that.  I  hate  Sales,  because  you  have  to  watch  six  women 
scratching  each  other  for  the  possession  of  a  piece  of  dirty 
silk,  and  feel  one  with  them.  And  even  if  the  shopwalker 
digs  you  in  the  ribs  you  can't  give  him  in  charge  at  such  a 
time.     I  sometimes  wonder  if  the  economies  I  practise  are 


AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN.  93 

equal  to  the  frayed  ends  of  my  temper  which  result  from 
them.  I  always  meant  to  marry  a  duke — but  of  course  as 
Eldred  declined  to  be  a  duke  I  have  to  shop  with  scratching 
women ! " 

"Eldred  being  inevitable ?"  remarked  Vaughan  drily. 

She  did  not  answer  in  words,  but  she  slipped  an  arm 
round  her  husband's  broad  shoulders,  laughed  a  lightning- 
flash  of  defiance  at  Vaughan,  and  went  swiftly  and  lightly 
towards  the  house.  Mrs.  Leroy  never  dragged  her  feet,  or 
appeared  to  keep  a  poise  save  with  the  ease  of  perfect  health. 

Eldred's  mental  gaze  was  still  upon  Patricia's  lifted  face 
as  he  sang,  and  his  next  words  proved  it.  "  She  is  a  nice  girl 
all  round,  you  know !  "  he  said,  for  Patricia  had  been  quite 
simple  in  her  enjoyment,  and  her  brown  eyes  had  touched 
him  a  little  by  their  utter  sadness.  "  She  is  a  dear  girl,  to 
anyone  who  knows  her !  " 

"  Yes,"  echoed  Vaughan  absently.  "  A  dear  girl  .... 
to  anyone  who  knows  her !  "  and  his  eyes  lit  as  by  chance 
on  the  house,  where,  outside  Fate's  window,  Phlumpie  sat 
sunning  himself,  his  face  a  little  turned  to  the  raised  sash, 
as  if  someone  talked  with  him  from  within,  even  while  she 
changed  her  skirt. 

Fate  was  not  at  the  moment  thinking  very  much  about 
Vaughan,  or  Phlumpie,  or  even  Eldred.  She  cajoled 
Phlumpie  because  it  was  her  custom  to  use  her  art  on  any 
masculine  animal,  even  when  a  little  absent-minded.  But 
she  did  not  really  notice  when  he  only  blinked  his  gooseberry 
eyes  and  began  to  pull  out  the  longer  hair  of  his  tail  in  his 
effort  to  clean  it  conscientiously.  Her  active  brain  had 
harked  back  to  the  subject  that  fed  it  best  at  the  moment, 
and  she  thought  of  Patricia  Mornington  and  the  problem 
of  her  existence.  For  there  had  been  something  subtly  new 
about  Patricia's  mental  attitude,  though  she  had  hardly  be- 
trayed it  save  by  a  slightly  added  hardness.  She  was,  as 
Fate  had  said,  a  trifle  more  mature  each  time  they  en- 
countered each  other;  she  was  also  a  trifle  more  philoso- 
phical, or  perhaps  was  weary  of  kicking  against  the  pricks. 
All  Fate's  vitality  took  hold  of  the  difficulty  which  the  other 
woman  seemed  fain  to  lay  down :  but  she  did  not  find  the 
remedy  in  marriage,  though,  with  reasonless  intuition,  she 
felt  that  there  was  an  unnamed  figure  in  Patricia's  life  which 
might  account  for  the  change  in  her.     She  had  never  spoken 


94  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

of  marriage  to  Fate  as  a  possible  escape,  and  she  named  one 
man  no  more  than  another.  Yet  Fate  presaged  a  gradual 
tendency  towards  some  such  solving  of  the  riddle,  and  felt 
that  it  might  be  still  more  unsatisfactory  than  the  present 
state  of  things. 

"  I  must  wait  till  she  tells  me,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  frowning 
at  her  own  fair  face  in  the  looking-glass.  "  If  she  will  only 
not  do  it  first  and  tell  me  afterwards!  Marriage  is  either 
the  key  of  the  universe  to  a  woman,  or  its  ultra  confusion." 
For  the  joy  of  her  own  wifehood  did  not  blind  her  to  what 
its  opposite  might  be,  perhaps  indeed  it  helped  her  to  judge 
by  contrast. 

There  was  no  figure,  not  even  a  shadowy  outline,  that 
Mrs.  Leroy  knew  of  in  Patricia's  existence,  whereby  she  could 
weigh  the  chances  of  her  happiness  or  its  reverse.  Yet  if 
Fortune  were  not  so  fond  of  a  game  of  irony,  Mrs.  Leroy 
might  have  found  data  by  which  to  judge  a  personality  in 
her  friend's  present  life  through  a  very  small  incident  of  the 
next  few  days. 

The  knot  in  the  handkerchief  served  to  remind  her  of 
her  visit  to  town,  and  without  enthusiasm  she  took  a  hot 
journey  and  did  a  fair  amount  of  purchasing  in  crowded 
shops.  She  felt  jaded  and  rather  tired  when  she  shook 
herself  finally  free  of  business  at  Piccadilly  Circus,  and  was 
haunted  by  a  misgiving  that  there  might  be  a  smut  on  her 
nose.  Eldred  was  to  meet  her  in  Pall  Mall,  and  she  did 
not  care  to  appear  smudged  in  his  eyes.  With  a  furtive 
eye  upon  the  plate  glass  she  sought  a  reflection  of  herself — 
and  was  reassured.  Whatever  the  bustling,  perspiring  crowd 
might  be,  after  scratching  each  other  in  the  struggle  for 
bargains,  and  being  nudged  by  over-zealous  shopwalkers, 
Mrs.  Leroy  had  kept  the  freshness  of  Sunnington  upon  her- 
self and  her  clothes.  She  gave  a  little  shake  to  her  fine 
black  skirts,  picked  them  up  out  of  the  July  dust,  and  turned 
to  cross  the  road. 

The  refuge  which  saves  life  every  day  at  Piccadilly  Circus 
was  for  the  moment  so  crowded  that  Mrs.  Leroy  was  blocked 
in  there  and  had  to  wait  the  patience  of  the  policeman  in 
the  road  with  several  other  people.  At  least,  however,  she 
was  not  splashed,  for  there  was  no  mud,  and  when  the 
traffic  was  held  up  on  the  further  side  she  proceeded  on 
fafii  way,  crossing  tlie  pa-vement  ju&d  proceeding  down  to 


AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN.  95 

Waterloo  Place  without  a  glance  round  her.  Therefore  she 
did  not  for  the  moment  catch  sight  of  a  gentleman  who  had 
lingered  to  look  in  Drew's  windows,  and  then,  turning  to 
the  kerb  facing  the  roadway,  had  picked  out  Mrs.  Leroy's 
tall  and  distinctive  figure  amongst  those  on  the  refuge. 
Between  the  passing  cabs  and  omnibuses  he  saw  her 
pause,  then  cross,  and  pass  him,  her  eyes  too  absorbed  to 
be  attracted  even  by  the  long  steady  gaze  of  his  own.  Yet 
had  she  been  less  taken  up  with  the  way  she  was  going  she 
could  hardly  have  failed  to  give  him  a  passing  glance,  for 
he  was  as  noticeable  in  his  way  as  she  was  in  hers — a  very 
tall  man,  who  carried  himself  a  little  languidly,  and  whose 
thick  hair  was  quite  grey,  almost  silver  in  fact.  Beneath 
insolently  drooped  lids  his  eyes  followed  Fate  Leroy  as  she 
walked  down  towards  Waterloo  Place,  and  he  turned,  as  if 
hardly  decided,  from  the  Circus  .... 

At  the  end  of  what  is  really  Regent  Street,  where  Waterloo 
Place  connects  it  with  Pall  Mall,  Mrs.  Leroy  experienced 
a  sudden  and  unmerciful  shock.  She  was  accustomed, 
though  not  inured,  to  platform  admiration  when  she 
travelled  by  train ;  and  experience  warned  her  not  to  loiter 
through  the  streets,  but  to  walk  as  if  with  an  object,  by 
which  means  she  avoided  the  more  obvious  annoyances  of 
a  World  whose  danger  signal  is  Sex.  Now  it  began  to  dawn 
upon  her  that  she  was  being  followed.  Something — a 
shadow  on  the  pavement  behind  as  she  paused  to  cross  into 
Pall  Mall — the  quiet  persistence  of  footsteps  always  echoing 
her  own,  made  her  heart  leap  before  it  settled  down  into 
the  old  steady  throb  of  anger.  The  very  real  rage  which 
always  surged  up  over  Fate  at  any  incident  of  this  sort,  was 
her  best  aid;  for  otherwise  she  was  such  a  guarded  woman 
that  a  hint  of  being  threatened,  with  no  protector  at  hand, 
made  her  panic-stricken. 

She  crossed  the  wide  stretch  of  Waterloo  Place  deliberately, 
no  least  disturbance  in  her  manner  to  flatter  the  enemy,  and 
proceeded  along  Pall  Mall.  Once  she  glanced  to  the  left, 
as  if  attracted  by  a  shop  window — and  saw,  with  frightened 
eyes,  the  blurred  outline  of  the  horror  that  pursued  her. 
It  was  undoubtedly  upon  her  track,  and  loomed  large  and 
sinister  in  her  imagination.  Surely,  too,  it  was  nearer  than 
before!  She  shrank  mentally  from  the  attempt  to  accost 
her  which  she  expected. 


96  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

It  was  not  the  mere  fact  of  a  man  following  her  through 
a  London  street  or  so  (misled  by  her  being  alone,  and  a 
noticeably  pretty  woman)  that  paralysed  Mrs.  Leroy.  If  he 
would  not  be  warned,  if  he  even  went  so  far  as  to  speak  to 
her,  he  was  easily  driven  away,  or  what  were  policemen  for, 
or  shops  in  which  to  take  refuge  ?  It  was  the  actual  fact  of 
an  implied  liberty — a  suggested  insult — that  outraged  her. 
She  was  in  all  senses  a  woman  who  sheathed  herself  in 
womanhood,  and  demanded  masculine  homage — the  reverent 
protection  of  true  homage.  The  very  idea  of  having  to  fight 
for  herself  in  such  a  case  as  that  which  menaced  her,  made 
her  frightened  and  indignant.  She  shrank  from  the  dreaded 
effort,  and  thought  desperately  that  if  her  husband  were  not 
first  at  their  rendezvous  she  could  not  bear  it.  The  mere 
contemplation  of  standing  still  to  wait  for  him,  and  letting 
this  thing  that  she  feared  come  upon  her,  was  terrifying. 

Where  the  street  sweeps  past  the  Carlton,  she  curbed  her 
haste  with  difficulty.  She  was  a  little  short-sighted,  and 
with  despair  she  sought  in  vain  for  the  familiar  figure  she 
wanted  amongst  those  coming  and  going  round  the  hotel. 
The  hesitation  in  her  step  had  not  reached  a  pause,  but  she 
felt  the  one  behind  her  unslackened,  and  it  seemed  to  her 
that  something  almost  brushed  her  shoulder;  then  the  street 
corner  turned  her  friend,  unfolding  itself  to  disentangle 
Eldred  from  the  advancing  pedestrians.  He  walked  into  her 
sight,  bringing  safety  with  him  round  the  comer  of  the  Hay- 
market,  and  she  need  stay  her  hurrying  feet  no  longer. 

"Well,  Babs,  got  all  the  shopping  done?"  he  said  fondly, 
taking  the  minute  parcel  which  was  all  she  would  carry. 
(Fate  said  gravely  that  no  woman  who  respected  herself  or 
her  gowns  could  behave  like  the  proverbial  pannier-donkey.) 

"Have  you  been  waiting  long?"  was  all  she  contrived  to 
say.  _  Indeed  her  breath  was  gone,  and  she  stood  quite  close 
to^  his  shoulder  in  the  excusing  crowd,  wishing  that  she 
might  put  her  hand  out  and  actually  touch  him  to  regain  the 
sense  of  confidence. 

But  the  ^  little  instinctive  movement  was  enough — the 
obvious  position  of  a  woman  whose  ownership  was  no  more 
doubtful,  and  she  herself  consequently  unattainable.  A  very 
tall  man  with  a  handsome  greyed  head  turned  and  sauntered 
into  the  Carlton  as  if  the  lounge  had  been  his  destination 
all  along.      Inside  the  glass  doors  he  nearly  fell  over  a 


AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN.  97 

younger  frock  coat  surmounted  by  a  shining  face,  just 
issuing  forth. 

"  Hulloa,  Bobby !  "  he  said  easily.  "  What  on  earth  axe 
you  doing  here?  I  saw  Lowndes  at  the  Club,  he  told  me 
you  were  staying  at  Ragby  to  decide  on  the  chances  of  the 
Winchester  colt.     What's  his  form  ?  " 

"  Rotten !  "  said  Lord  Harbinger. 

"  Well,  if  you've  nothing  to  do,  stay  and  dine.  We  can 
go  into  the  Grill,  and  do  something  afterwards.  That  »uit 
you?" 

"Ripping!" 


Fate  Leroy  was  going  down  to  Sunnington  with  her 
husband,  unknowing  that  she  had  been  shown  the  vague 
personality  she  had  felt  dawn  in  Patricia's  life — the  man 
whom  she  might  marry! — in  the  hero  of  an  unsavoury  in- 
cident. 


98 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  All  her  face  was  his  to  treasure, 
Hold  and  hoard  in  vain  ; — 
Slow,  sweet  smiles  that  came  at  leisure. 

Lips  that  drooped  again, 
Grey  eyes,  half  awake  with  pleasure, 
Half  asleep  with  pain." 

Valerie. 

"  All  the  same,  I  think  you  have  treated  me  very  badly ! " 
said  Patricia. 

Fate  laughed,  standing  with  one  hand  on  the  door  of  the 
motor  carriage,  the  sunlight  warming  a  dainty  grey  gown  that 
suggested  visits  of  ceremony. 

"  First,"  said  Patricia  accusingly,  "  you  came  up  to  town 
after  telling  me  solemnly  that  you  never  did  so — you  spent 
hours  in  shops  and  none  with  me;  you  did  not  even  accept 
my  general  invitation  to  lunch,  given  you  weeks  ago.  And 
then,  when  I  discover  these  crimes,  and  come  down  to  Sun- 
nington  to  exterminate  you,  you  put  on  a  grey  gown  to  soften 
my  heart,  and  are  plainly  going  out  the  moment  I  arrive  at 
your  gate.  I  am  really  disappointed,  Fate !  "  she  added 
frankly. 

"  But  I  have  implored  you  to  come  in,  if  only  for  half  a 
minute  !  "  Mrs.  Leroy  expostulated,  still  half  laughing.  "  If 
it  were  anyone  else  whom  I  was  going  to  see,  I  would  have 
given  it  up — you  do  not  know  how  much  rather  I  would  stay 
and  talk  to  you !  But  she  is  one  of  those  people,  whom,  not 
liking,  I  would  not  for  the  world  treat  with  affectionate 
rudeness !  " 

"I  see."  Patricia's  brown  eyes  caught  the  meaning.  "You 
do  not  pay  her  the  compliment  of  knowing  that  she  would 
understand  and  sympathise." 


AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN.  99 

"  I  do  not  pay  her  any  compliments !  "  said  Fate  discon- 
tentedly. "  She  is  a  woman  with  a  sallow  skin,  and  she  wears 
white  fur.  You  can  gauge  her  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things 
from  that." 

"  I  am  not  fond  of  white  fur  wraps,  myself,  for  anything 
over  twenty,"  said  Patricia.  A  mental  vision  of  Lady  Vera, 
one  cold  day  in  the  spring,  rushing  up  before  her — Lady  Vera 
with  sharpened  features  and  much  white  albatross  to  frame 
them.  From  the  pavements  of  Piccadilly  she  had  probably 
looked  well  and  wintry,  as  she  whirled  by ;  but  Patricia  had 
sat  by  her  side  in  the  carriage 

"  The  least  you  can  do,"  she  said,  turning  from  the 
reminiscence,  "  in  fact  the  only  thing  you  can  do,  if  you  have 
a  sense  of  justice,  is  to  let  me  take  you  to  the  white  fur 
woman,  whom  I  hope  lives  afar  off." 

"  Six  miles,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  still  hesitating  in  the  road. 
"  I  was  going  by  train.  But  are  you  sure  it  will  not  hinder 
you  from  going  somewhere  else  ?  " 

"I  hope  so,  I  am  sure!"  said  Patricia  serenely.  "I 
escaped  from  a  motoring  party  which  my  mother  was  taking 
out  in  her  own  car  this  afternoon  (thirty  or  forty  miles  into 
the  country,  and  they  hope  to  do  it  within  the  hour !),  and  I 
fled  into  the  wilderness  by  myself — as  far  as  my  people  know. 
I  thought  of  safety  and  you,  but  they  thought  of  unknown 
wilds !  Please  get  in,  and  tell  Staunton  where  you  wish  to 
go." 

"  But  I  am  not  veiled  for  motoring,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy 
honestly.     "  Shall  I  arrive  with  red  eyes  and  frowsy  hair  ?  " 

"  It  is  possible  to  drive  a  motor  as  slowly  as  a  horse,"  said 
Patricia  mildly.  "  There  is  no  need  to  go  there  at  forty  miles 
an  hour.  The  longer  we  are  on  the  road  the  better  I  shall 
be  pleased." 

She  opened  the  door  herself  and  drew  the  rug  aside  for 
Fate's  grey  skirts,  for  there  was  no  servant  with  her  beside 
the  chauffeur.  "  Now,  where  is  Staunton  to  go  ?  "  she  said, 
as  Mrs.  Leroy  settled  herself. 

"The  house  is  called  Ashingham — it  is  at  Urden  on  the 
river.  If  your  man  will  take  us  to  the  Hampton  Court  Road 
there,  I  will  point  it  out.  The  lady  of  the  white  fur  is  a 
step-sister  of  a  man  you  have  met  at  my  house  once  or  twice," 
she  explained,  as  Patricia  gave  the  order,  and  they  rolled 
gently  over  the  roads  and  out  of  the  Sunnington  fields.     "  I 

7* 


100  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

have  to  call  upon  her  occasionally,  and  she  returns  it  in  the 
same  spirit.  I  always  class  a  call  at  Ashingham  with  one  at 
my  dentist's,  or  the  hairdresser's,  when  I  go  there  just  to  be 
looked  over.  It  does  not  follow  that  anything  unpleasant 
will  happen !  "  she  added  significantly. 

"  A  man  I  have  met  at  your  house  !  "  said  Patricia,  frankly 
interested  as  she  would  not  have  been  in  anyone  in  Mr. 
Momington's.  "  I  can  only  remember  a  Mr.  Vaughan.  I 
have  met  him  several  times,"  she  added  with  unconscious 
resentment. 

"  Yes,  it  is  Gerald  Vaughan  whom  I  mean.  We  know 
him  very  well  indeed,  and  we  know  his  step-sister  by  necessity 
— to  be  honest.  He  is  not  such  a  very  elevated  type,"  said 
Fate  slowly,  "  yet  the  fact  that  he  lives  with  his  step-sister  and 
preserves  peace  should  count  in  his  favour  if  there  is  justice 
with  judgment.  It  must  be  very  like  wearing  a  perpetual 
mustard  plaster  of  which  the  mustard  never  loses  its  freshness 
and  power ! " 

A  faint  gleam  of  instinctive  sympathy  dawned  in  the  liquid 
depths  of  Patricia's  eyes.  It  seemed  to  her  that,  unsympa- 
thetic though  they  undoubtedly  were,  Providence  had  bound 
similar  burdens  upon  her  own  shoulders  and  Gerald 
Vaughan's.  He  also,  it  appeared,  was  afflicted  with  a  relative 
who  wore  white  fur  past  an  appropriate  youth ;  and  as  for  the 
mustard  plaster,  she  felt  the  prick  of  it  on  her  skin  still. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can  appreciate  Mr.  Vaughan's  trial,"  she 
said  reluctantly.     "  I  almost  forgive  him  his  irritability  !  " 

"  I  am  sorry  it  is  so  obvious — poor  Gerald !  I  suppose 
we  are  so  fond  of  him  that  we  hardly  recognise  it  now." 
She  used  the  plural  pronoun  as  if  from  custom,  yet  Patricia 
still  fretted  in  her  heart. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing,"  she  said,  "  irrespec- 
tively of  Mr.  Vaughan,  whom  I  regard  as  a  deadly  rival  to 
myself  in  your  interest,  by  the  way.  What  did  you  do  when 
jrou  were  in  town  and  basely  forbore  to  lunch  with  me?" 

"  You  need  not  dwell  on  it,"  said  Fate  penitently.  "  I  was 
punished  enough  by  a  bad  meal  in  Regent  Street,  and  a  most 
disagreeable  incident  to  end  the  excursion.  Ugh !  " — she 
shuddered  a  little  with  a  reminiscence,  and  felt  the  tall  per- 
sonality at  her  shoulder  again  before  Eldred  rose  into  sight 
round  the  Carlton.  "How  I  hate  London,  and  its  streets 
and  smells  and  vices  ! "  said  Mrs.   Leroy  impatiently.      "  I 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  loi 

bought  household  gear  that  would  not  interest  you.  There 
seems  to  be  always  something  wanted  in  a  house.  I  have 
told  Phlumpie  quite  seriously  that  he  must  not  eat  so  much, 
or  we  shall  be  unable  to  have  new  dusters !  Tell  me  about 
yourself,  rather.     What  have  you  done  or  left  undone  lately?" 

"  We  went  to  the  Earl's  Court  Exhibition  last  night,"  said 
Patricia  in  a  tone  impossible  to  describe.  "  It  was  so  hot  a 
night  that  it  was  decided  we  could  not  stay  in  our  own  large 
cool  rooms,  so  we  dined  at  a  hot,  crowded  restaurant,  and 
then  went  amongst  a  number  of  people  who,  being  packed 
into  a  certain  area,  had  used  up  what  oxygen  there  might 
have  been  in  the  gardens." 

"  Poor  Patricia  !     But  why  on  earth  did  you  go  ?  " 

"We  went  in  hansoms,"  went  on  Patricia  in  a  tone  of 
reminiscence  that  had  a  faint  ironical  humour.  "When  we 
hated  each  other  very  much  we  went  three  in  a  hansom,  that 
there  might  be  no  escape  from  each  other's  nearness  and 
dearness.     It  was  rather  hard  on  our  gowns." 

"  But  why  did  you  go  ?  " 

"It  was  a  theatre  party,"  explained  Patricia  in  a  paren- 
thesis. "  At  least  I  thought  it  was  a  theatre  party  until  I 
found  that  we  were  going  in  for  '  a  good  old  rowd.'  You  do 
not  know  what  that  means,  nor  did  I,  until  we  arrived  and 
began  to  elbow  our  way  with  women  in  soiled  gowns  and  men 
who  appeared  to  speak  to  whom  they  pleased.  Then  we 
went  on  the  Switchback  Railway — the  whole  party  of  us." 

"  Who  then  shall  be  saved  ?  "  murmured  Mrs.  Leroy  in  fits 
of  laughter.  "  I  went  on  the  Switchback  Railway  once  with 
my  husband  and  Mr.  Vaughan.  They  formed  a  guard  of 
honour  round  me,  but  there  was  a  fat  man  in  front  who 
hooted,  and  I  heard  Gerald  saying  '  Vulgar  beast ! '  at  in- 
tervals, and  I  was  afraid  Eldred  was  going  to  make  trouble 
because  the  people  pushed  me  going  through  the  barrier. 
And,  altogether,  it  was  the  most  unnerving  thing  I  ever  did 
in  my  life." 

"  We  could  hardly  complain  of  that  in  our  party,  because 
we  were  the  aggressors.  We  all  pushed,  and  stamped,  and 
shouted  to  each  other.  Then  we  filled  a  whole  sleigh,  and 
waved  our  hats  and  yelled  as  we  set  off.  I  think  we  yelled 
most  of  the  way.  I  know  our  sleigh  went  faster  than  the 
others,  because  we  had  two  very  heavy  men  in  front  who 
helped  to  push  off,  or  guide,  or  something  of  that  sort." 


I02  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

"But  why  did  you  go?"  asked  Mrs.  Leroy,  varying  the 
form  of  her  question  in  despair. 

Over  Patricia's  beautiful  face  there  crept  a  look  "  too 
subtle  to  unravel,"  and  yet  which  added  to  its  beauty.  The 
clear  cold  irony  of  a  minute  before  left  her  eyes,  and  only  an 
expression  of  wonder  such  as  one  sees  in  the  eyes  of  a  child 
remained  there.  The  motor  was  soberly  slipping  past  huge 
elms  and  sleepy  meadows,  beyond  which  was  a  glint  of  the 
blue  river  winding  past  Urden.  Patricia  had  been  looking  at 
the  river  while  she  recounted  last  night's  experiences  with  a 
soft  self-scorn.  Now  she  turned  her  lambent  eyes  on  Fate 
and  smiled  half  apologetically. 

"  I  went  because  you  told  me  to  ! "  she  said. 

"  I ! ! !  " 

Mrs.  Leroy  gazed  back  at  her,  gasping — all  the  hauteur 
which  had  left  Patricia's  eyes  gathered  in  her  own  stoney- 
grey  ones.  "/  told  you  to  sacrifice  yourself  to  men  and 
women  who  behave  like  silly  ill-bred  children  ?  I  never  said 
anything  of  the  kind." 

"  Indeed  you  did.  You  talked  to  me  the  last  time  I  was 
with  you — about  the  Upper  Classes  (as  they  are  called)  now 
in  England,  and  the  reasons  of  the  things  at  which  I  was 
carping  and  cavilling.  Oh,  yes,  you  did!  You  advised  me 
to  set  up  my  own  standard,  and  influence  these  people,  rather 
than  condemn  them  from  a  distance.  I  have  been  thinking 
of  it  ever  since.  It  was  so  true.  '  For  generations,'  you 
said,  *  our  Aristocracy,  as  we  call  it,  have  been  over-breeding, 
and  over-feeding,  and  over-heating  themselves  with  luxury. 
They  have  the  same  instincts  as  racehorses.  Will  you  de- 
mand morality  from  a  racehorse?  Know  them  a  little  more 
intimately,  and  you  will  find  them  the  same  stock  as  your- 
self— it  is  just  the  training  that  decides  if  that  inheritance  of 
over-refinement  shall  be  a  thing  to  admire  or  utterly  disdain.' 
It  is  all  quite  true.  I  have  been  demanding  the  past  position 
of  affairs,  which  Aunt  Helen  knew,  from  a  circle  that  has 
become  detached  from  her  traditions.  I  have  not  even 
judged  save  at  a  distance.     It  is  I  who  have  been  hard." 

Fate  drew  a  long  breath,  with  the  bewildered  feeling  of 
Frankenstein  when  he  found  himself  too  successful  a  creator. 

"  I  really  did  not  mean  to  suggest  that  you  were  in  the 
wrong,"  she  said  almost  feebly.  "  My  sympathies  are  en- 
tirely with  you,  in  every  way !    I  hope  you  understood  that  ? 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  103 

Only  T  am  so  apt  to  grow  enthusiastic  over  social  questions, 
and  when  my  brain  begins  to  work  my  tongue  runs  away  with 
me.  I  said  all  that  and  more  than  I  said  to  you  to  Mr. 
Vaughan  aftenvards,  and  he  flatly  contradicted  me ! " 

"  How  very  rude  of  him !  "  said  Patricia  with  rather  a  sad 
smile.  "  Do  you  know  it  is  exactly  what  I  should  have  ex- 
pected of  him  ?  I  hope  he  will  never  be  moved  to  contradict 
me.  I  feel  that  I  should  be  so  angry."  She  looked  at  Mrs. 
Leroy's  fair,  unconscious  face  with  a  pang  at  her  heart.  If 
Fate  thought  her  uncomprehending  with  regard  to  the  men 
and  women  round  her,  she  in  her  turn  almost  thought  Fate 
blind  to  a  danger  in  her  own  life — the  danger  of  an  alien 
personality.  The  amount  of  intimacy  implied  by  a  contra- 
diction seemed  to  her  ominous. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy  with  an  odd  little  laugh,  "  I  cer- 
tainly did  not  think  that  the  result  of  my  tirade  would  be  that 
you  would  sacrifice  your  taste  and  go  upon  the  Switchback 
Railway !  " 

"  I  wanted  to  find  out  if  there  were  even  a  childish  pleasure 
in  doing  these  things,  but  I  must  own  that  I  did  not  expect 
anything  quite  so  bad.  The  men  lost  their  heads  a  little, 
and  one  or  two  of  my  mother's  friends  became  rather  hysteri- 
cal," said  Patricia  apologetically.  A  vision  of  Mrs.  Blais 
Heron  in  front  of  her  with  an  arm  that  certainly  did  not  be- 
long to  her  husband  clasping  her  waist,  rose  before  her  mind's 
e}^.  As  they  had  descended  the  second  hill  Patricia  had 
heard  her  shriek,  and  had  been  aware  that  Caryl  Lexiter,  in 
the  front  seat,  was  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  It  had 
been  a  revealing  moment,  when  all  but  fundamental  nature 
had  gone  down  on  the  wind  that  they  made  with  their  forward 
rush.  Caryl's  voice  was  still  mellow  and  sweet  even  in  a 
roar.  Mrs.  Blais  Heron  looked  a  lady-like  Bacchante  when, 
with  hat  awry  and  loosened  hair,  she  took  her  seat  for  the 
second  journey,  and  tried  to  smoothe  herself  before  the  down- 
ward plunge  again ;  otherwise  Patricia  found  that  excitement 
acted  upon  the  family  of  Blais  and  on  Lord  Queensleigh's  son 
very  much  as  it  did  on  the  Smiths  and  Joneses  in  the  following 
sleighs.  "  Do  you  expect  racehorses  to  be  moral  ?  "  she  had 
reminded  herself.  "  Will  you  look  for  dignity  or  control 
from  those  who  for  generations  past  have  been  endeavouring 
to  excite  and  amuse  themselves  by  every  form  of  self- 
indulgence  ?  " 


104  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

"  There  is  always  something  to  like  in  people,  as  well  as 
something  to  excuse,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy  even  as  the  motor 
slackened  its  decorous  speed  and  came  to  a  standstill  outside 
the  low  wooden  gate  of  Ashingham.  "  If  only  we  are  not  too 
self-righteous !  That  is  my  great  fault.  You  are  going  to 
see  it  exemplified  now,  and  to  be  a  witness  to  my  humiliation 
at  the  hands  of  my  hostess." 

Patricia  laughed  as  she  threw  the  rug  aside,  and  moved 
to  allow  her  companion  to  alight.  "  I  shall  be  spared  that, 
for  I  am  not  coming  in,  of  course,"  she  said  composedly. 
"  If  you  will  not  be  very  long  I  will  go  on  for  a  further  drive 
and  pick  you  up  on  my  way  back," 

But  Mrs.  Leroy  did  not  answer,  and  turning  to  see  the 
cause  Patricia  became  aware  that  coincidences  were  not  in 
her  favour,  and  that  she  was  once  more  face  to  face  with  an 
antagonistic  personality.  Mrs.  Leroy  was  shaking  hands  with 
someone  even  now  arrived  at  his  own  gate  as  she  left  the  car- 
riage— that  spare  figure  and  the  square  shoulders,  the  lean 
face  and  the  eye-glass,  could  only  belong  to  Vaughan. 
Patricia  experienced  a  momentary  perverse  impulse  to  tell 
Staunton  to  drive  on  before  the  situation  could  be  explained 
— even  as  he  turned  with  Fate  and  came  back  to  the  motor 
she  told  herself  that  she  need  not  sacrifice  her  inclination 
and  become  an  unwilling  guest  in  this  man's  house  at  least. 

"  How  do  you  do  ? "  said  Vaughan  in  a  charming  croak, 
lifting  his  hat  from  his  smooth,  flattened  hair.  "  Of  course 
you  are  coming  in  with  Mrs.  Leroy?  You  must,  or  I  shall 
think  you  have  some  suspicion  of  my  hospitality." 

Patricia  had  been  vaguely  groping  for  this  man's  attrac- 
tion to  Fate  Leroy;  it  was  revealed  to  her  now.  Hitherto 
he  had  shown  her  only  the  difficult  side  of  his  nature,  because 
he  had  felt  the  advantage  a  little  with  her,  if  anything,  in 
their  meetings,  and  he  was  not  a  generous  man.  Here,  in 
his  character  of  host,  the  positions  were  reversed.  He  could 
afford  to  be  at  his  best.  She  looked  at  him  a  little  curiously 
— there  were  revelations  here,  she  thought — and  quietly  got 
out  of  the  motor  with  a  brief  order  to  the  chauffeur  to  wait. 

The  house  stood  a  fair  way  back  from  the  road,  to  which, 
however,  it  was  plainly  visible  by  reason  of  a  treeless  garden, 
and  revealed  itself  as  a  long  low  building  of  no  particular 
date  or  style,  with  small  paned  windows  and  two  rather  pic- 
turesque gables.     If  there  were  no  trees  in  front  of  it,  however. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  105 

there  were  plenty  of  flowers.  Patricia  idled  up  the  path  a 
little  in  the  wake  of  her  host  and  Mrs.  Leroy,  the  man  leading 
the  way  and  the  woman  he  knew  best  immediately  behind 
him.  They  were  close  enough  to  talk,  though  not  side  by 
side,  and  Patricia  was  near  enough  to  listen,  though  her  full 
brown  gaze  seemed  more  engrossed  with  the  riotous  standard 
roses  and  the  sweet-scented  peonies  than  with  things  human. 
On  either  side  of  the  garden  walk  were  beds  of  stocks,  pure 
white  and  breathing  fragrance.  Patricia  had  not  known 
until  that  hour  how  sweet  an  English  garden  could  be. 

"  You  are  more  successful  than  I  over  your  flowers,  Gerald," 
said  Fate  with  just  the  touch  of  capricious  discontent  in  her 
tone  which  her  husband  and  Vaughan  secretly  encouraged. 
It  made  her  subtly  feminine,  and  suggested  to  their  minds  a 
dear,  unreasoning  thing  to  be  indulged  because  of  their 
higher  standpoint. 

"  I  do  not  plant  geraniums  in  a  mid-day  sun  at  the  wrong 
time  of  the  year !  "  said  Vaughan  with  mild  irony.  "  Look 
at  that  stock — doesn't  it  bring  the  heart  of  the  country  and 
its  cottages  to  your  mind  ?  " 

"  Yes — how  Phlumpie  would  love  it !  He  spoils  all  mine. 
He  would  roll  in  the  very  midst  of  that  white  mass,  and  you 
would  hardly  distinguish  him  from  it." 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Vaughan  in  a  slightly  incensed  tone, 
"  but  he  would  certainly  not  roll  in  my  flower  beds  !  That  is 
one  reason  why  your  gardening  is  not  a  success — animals  are 
always  destructive,  and  no  gardener  should  keep  pets." 

"But,  Gerald,"  said  Fate,  opening  her  grey  eyes,  "if  you 
had  a  Phlumpie  of  course  he  would  roll  in  the  stocks ! " 

Patricia,  sauntering  through  the  white  borders,  found  her- 
self smiling  while  she  hardly  knew  why.  Fate  was  so  charm- 
ing in  her  absurdities — and  she  found  that  Vaughan's  charac- 
teristic "  Pardon  me  !  "  was  becoming  an  attribute  of  his  in 
her  memory  of  him.  He  always  used  the  expression  when 
he  meant  to  contradict  flatly,  but  he  avoided  being  absolutely 
rude  as  by  a  miracle. 

"  I  am  afraid  your  sister  has  visitors  already !  "  said  Fate 
in  soft  dismay,  as  they  entered  the  square  hall.  There  were 
two  sunshades  on  the  oak  settle  under  the  window — gay  blots 
of  colour  that  rather  complemented  the  severely  simple  style 
of  furnishing.  For  the  house  was  at  least  an  expression  of 
taste  in  its  lack  of  pretension.     Patricia  thought  of  the  great 


106  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

white  pillars  and  the  heavy  richness  in  Piccadilly 

The  very  size  of  her  own  surroundings  seemed  to  make  life 
more  complicated  than  here. 

"  It  is  some  local  beast  and  his  squaws,  I  expect,"  said 
Vaughan,  lowering  his  voice  to  a  whisper.  "  Heaven  send 
they  have  been  here  some  time,  and  will  not  stay.  This  is 
our  'parlour,'  Miss  Mornington — we  boast  no  drawing-room, 
because  my  sister  and  I  share  it,  and  my  proclivities  to  un- 
tidiness veto  her  conception  of  a  real  drawing-room." 

"  Ah  !  how  pretty !  "  Patricia  said  with  frank  pleasure  as  he 
opened  the  door  and  ushered  them  in.  The  low  golden  light 
of  the  afternoon  was  shining  straight  in  at  the  open  lattice  of 
the  windows,  and  the  irregular,  unconventional  apartment 
reminded  her  a  little  of  the  pretty  rooms  in  Lady  Helen's 
Quinta — dear  Summer  rooms  that  were  still  a  pang  in  her 
memory.  It  was  not,  as  Vaughan  had  explained,  a  drawing- 
room,  for  the  dwarf  bookcases  running  round  it  made  it  more 
like  a  library;  but,  as  he  had  not  explained,  the  furniture  was 
the  result  of  two  antagonistic  tastes,  so  that  his  own  love  of 
severe  simplicity  was  modified  by  his  sister's  more  florid 
choice.  Miss  Vaughan  had  a  sincere  admiration  for  the 
methods  of  Maple,  and  hankered  after  "  Cosy  Comers,"  or 
imitation  Chippendale,  with  what  she  would  have  described 
as  a  "  scheme  of  colour "  in  her  draperies.  Vaughan  on  the 
other  hand  would  have  nothing  but  the  plainest  dark  wood, 
and  hardly  admitted  a  curtain,  if  there  was  no  one  to  protest. 
The  war  between  them  found  expression  in  the  fact  that 
most  of  the  chairs  were  harmless  basket-work  and  the  book- 
cases painted  white,  but  there  was  no  "scheme  of  colour," 
though  a  certain  lack  of  it,  and  the  floor  was  covered  with 
Indian  matting  that  looked  delightfully  cool  this  Summer  day. 

Patricia  was  taken  up  with  the  room  as  she  entered,  and 
did  not  immediately  see  Miss  Vaughan,  who  was  sitting  by 
the  tea-table  on  the  furthest  side  of  the  room  with  the  owners 
of  the  parasols.  She  rose  and  came  forward  to  greet  Mrs. 
Leroy,  and  even  while  she  did  so  her  appraising  glance  was 
taking  in  the  fashion  of  Patricia's  gown,  for  she  was  a  type 
of  woman  who  cannot  keep  her  eyes  from  betraying  her. 
However  well  trained  the  rest  of  the  body,  they  failed  to 
partake  of  its  good  manners,  and  were  invariably  ill-bred. 
As  Patricia  shook  hands  in  her  turn  she  perceived  that 
Vaughan's  step-sister  was  a  thin  woman  with  fat  cheeks,  suf- 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  107 

ficiently  well  groomed  in  her  appearance,  but  hardly  attrac- 
tive. A  glance  at  her  sallow  skin  reminded  her  of  Fate's 
objection  to  the  white  fur,  and  her  smile  was  quite  genuine. 

"You  will  have  some  tea,  of  course,"  Miss  Vaughan  said, 
in  a  staccato  tone  as  different  from  Vaughan's  croak  as  her 
face  from  his.  "  Gerald,  please  ring  the  bell.  There  are 
some  friends  of  yours,  Mrs.  Leroy." 

Fate  had,  however,  already  crossed  the  room,  and  was 
shaking  hands  with  a  pretty  dark  woman  whom  Patricia  had 
met  at  her  house.  The  other  caller  was  a  girl  with  a  fresh 
complexion  and  round  eyes.  She  had  been  pretty  with  the 
prettiness  of  youth  and  health  before  Patricia  came  near 
enough  to  her  for  contrast,  when  she  immediately  sank  into 
an  insignificance  that  was  a  trifle  commonplace. 

"  I  saw  you  cycle  past  my  house  this  morning.  Fate,"  said 
Mrs.  Carr,  the  dark  woman.  "  How  do  you  do.  Miss  Morn- 
ington.  Did  you  motor  down?  It  must  be  perfect  this 
weather." 

"She  brought  me  over  in  the  lap  of  luxury!"  said  Fate 
gaily.  "  Motoring  is  so  nice  that  I  shall  never  be  so  happy 
on  my  bicycle  again.     Where  did  you  see  me,  Mrs.  Carr?" 

"  Just  a  few  yards  down  the  road.  I  was  taking  baby  for 
an  airing." 

"  Is  your  nurse  too  busy  to  take  the  children  out  ?  "  said 
Miss  Vaughan  with  intended  sympathy.  "  What  a  trial 
they  are!  That  is  one  thing  I  should  insist  on  their  doing, 
even  though  everything  else  had  to  slide,  if  I  were  a  mother. 
I  know  I  could  not  be  bothered  to  trot  beside  my  own 
children." 

But  Mrs.  Carr  only  smiled.  "  I  have  spent  some  of  the 
happiest  hours  of  my  life  behind  my  own  perambulator !  "  she 
said  frankly.  "  I  would  much  rather  take  the  children  out 
than  turn  to  and  cook  the  dinner  as  poor  Marion  Rodney  has 
been  doing  of  late." 

"  Hasn't  she  a  maid  yet  ?  "  said  Fate  sympathetically.  "  I 
thought  you  sent  her  one,  Saydie." 

"Yes,  we  did,  Mrs.  Leroy,  but  I  don't  know  if  she  will 
stop,"  said  the  round-eyed  girl.  "  She  is  rather  unsatisfac- 
tory, and  Mrs.  Rodney  is  such  a  good  housekeeper,  you  see." 

"  It  is  becoming  more  trouble  to  get  servants  than  to  do 
the  wo'rk  oneself,"  said  Mrs.  Carr  laughing.  "  In  the  time 
I  have  spent  at  Registry  Offices,  I  could  have  got  through 


io8  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

many  a  day's  work !     Come,  Saydie,  we  must  be  going  if  we 
are  to  catch  that  train." 

Patricia  looked  at  the  speaker  as  she  stood  up — a  tall, 
graceful  woman,  far  better  looking  than  most  of  Lady  Vera's 
set,  and  as  well  dressed  as  many  of  them.  For  the  Middle 
Class  woman  of  limited  means  has  one  gown  where  her  richer 
sister  has  many,  but  that  is  the  principal  difference.  As  to 
cut  and  material,  and  the  many  expensive  details  that  finish 
a  woman's  appearance,  Patricia  found  no  fault  with  them. 
And  this  was  the  woman  who  so  openly  said  that  she  had 
spent  the  happiest  hours  of  her  life  pushing  her  own  babies 
in  their  perambulators !  Patricia  rose  suddenly,  as  if  in  the 
presence  of  a  dignity  greater  than  her  own,  and  shook  hands 
with  her  cordially. 

"Will  you  make  use  of  the  motor  to  take  you  to  the 
station?"  she  said.  "I  wish  you  would.  Mr.  Vaughan,  will 
you  tell  the  chauffeur  to  take  Mrs.  Carr  to  the  station  and 
then  come  back  for  us  here  ?  " 

Vaughan  was  waiting  to  see  the  visitors  out.  He  stood  at 
the  door,  his  personality  contained  for  the  moment  in  a  tall 
spare  figure  and  a  keen  face,  but  his  expression  as  he  looked 
at  Patricia  was  less  antagonistic  than  usual. 

"With  pleasure.  But  will  he  take  his  orders  from  me. 
Miss  Mornington  ?  "  he  said  in  his  usual  half  ironical  manner. 
"  Won't  he  regard  me  as  a  blatant  person  making  free  with 
someone  else's  property  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no — please  say  that  I  sent  the  message.  He  is  quite 
tame !  And  I  do  not  want  to  leave  my  tea  even  to  come  to 
the  gate,"  said  Patricia  composedly,  some  reluctance  she 
could  not  explain  making  her  loath  to  go  with  him  without 
Fate. 

"  Poor  thing !  How  dreadful  to  have  to  push  one's  own 
perambulator !  I  always  pity  Mrs.  Carr,"  said  Miss  Vaughan 
as  the  door  closed  on  her  visitors.  In  some  subtle  way  her 
tone  cheapened  the  pretty  dark-eyed  mother  who  had  not 
been  ashamed  of  her  maternity ;  and  Patricia,  turning  grave 
eyes  upon  her  hostess,  inwardly  concurred  in  Vaughan's 
canonization  for  living  in  peace  with  her.  She  was  so  sure 
that  Miss  Vaughan  could  not  understand  that  she  attempted 
no  defence,  and  was  a  little  amused  to  see  the  temper  in 
Fate's  expressive  eyebrows  as  she  rose  to  the  occasion. 

"  I  really  don't   think   that  Mrs.    Carr  particularly   wants 


AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN.  109 

one's  pity,"  she  remarked  drily.  "  It  is  a  little  superfluous, 
as  she  is  perfectly  contented  in  her  home  life." 

"  Yes,  but  with  such  sordid  details !  "  said  Vaughan's  sister 
in  her  jarring  voice — there  was  an  artificial  quality  about  it, 
particularly  when  she  laughed.  "  To  live  in  a  little  poky 
house,  with  hardly  a  soul  she  cares  to  speak  to,  in  that  dread- 
ful road,  and  to  drudge  over  her  household !  She  is  quite 
good-looking,  too."  Miss  Vaughan  thought  herself  generous 
to  other  women. 

"I  do  not  agree  with  you,"  said  Fate  with  soft-toned  de- 
cision. "After  all,  it  is  the  life  she  chose,  and  she  finds  com- 
pensation for  the  drawbacks.  Her  whole  life  is  absorbed 
in  the  interest  she  finds  in  her  husband  and  children — she  is 
rather  ambitious  for  them,  and  they  hope  to  be  better  off 
some  day.  I  see  nothing  to  pity  in  the  woman  who  is 
happily  married.  As  to  her  surroundings,  I  know  several 
women  who  live  in  that  road,  quite  as  nice  as  Mrs.  Carr !  " 

Patricia's  eyes,  full  of  a  rather  comical  amusement,  hap- 
pened to  catch  Fate's  at  the  "woman  who  is  happily  mar- 
ried" clause,  and  she  nearly  laughed,  remembering  Mrs. 
Leroy's  assertion  that  Miss  Vaughan  always  made  her  self- 
righteous.  She  saw,  too,  that  the  hint  at  the  spinster's  posi- 
tion being  more  pitiable  had  gone  home,  and  to  avert  more 
moral  bloodshed  she  opened  a  ladies'  paper  lying  on  the 
table  in  company  with  some  obviously  masculine  books,  and 
made  a  remark  upon  it  to  her  hostess. 

"  Yes,  it  is  about  the  best  of  them,"  said  Miss  Vaughan, 
trying  to  rally  from  her  tacit  defeat,  and  disguise  her  discom- 
fort. "  But  there  is  a  Summer  Number  there  that  has  some 
really  pretty  gowns.  What  has  become  of  it?"  She  turned 
over  a  newspaper  and  flung  two  of  the  books  on  to  the  sofa 
with  a  spiteful  movement  of  temper  that  betrayed  her. 
"  Gerald's  books  are  all  over  the  place.  He  is  disgustingly 
untidy !  "  she  said,  just  as  her  brother  entered  the  room. 

Whether  he  heard  or  no  Patricia  could  not  tell,  for  she 
was  not  looking  at  him ;  but  she  knew,  without  looking,  that 
Fate  had  made  room  for  him  at  her  side,  and  was  petting  him 
mentally  as  a  consolation  for  his  sister's  speech. 

"We  were  speaking  of  Mrs.  Carr's  ambitions  for  her 
children,"  she  said.  "  Have  you  seen  her  boy  lately  ?  He  is 
growing  such  a  tall  strip  of  a  lad !     And  she  dotes  on  him." 

"  The    education    of   mothers  has  been   neglected,"    said 


no  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

Vaughan.     "  Someone  ought  to  start  a  crusade  against  their 
'  doting.'     It  is  ruinous  for  the  object." 

"  Nonsense,  Gerald !  All  women  ought  to  dote  on  their 
menfolk.  I  always  doted  on  Eldred — even  when  he  would 
not  propose  to  me !  " 

"  I  know.  That  is  just  what  I  complain  of !  The  effect 
of  doting  is  even  more  disastrous  on  sons  than  on  husbands, 
though.  Look  at  the  modem  boy.  He  has  grown  tame. 
He  no  longer  wishes  to  go  to  sea,  and  be  a  pirate  and  kill 
people,  or  other  virtuous  things  of  that  kind.  The  boy  Carr 
is  probably  an  instance." 

Fate  looked  at  him  with  sudden  dangerous  interest.  All 
the  woman  in  her  seemed  to  be  picturing  the  boy  in  him,  and 
loving  it.  Certainly  the  effect  upon  her  of  Miss  Vaughan's 
infelicities  was  not  a  good  one  in  its  results. 

"  Did  you  want  to  be  a  pirate?  "  she  said. 

His  cold  quick  eyes  darkened  a  little  with  pain,  or  dis- 
appointment; but  it  was  the  tone  of  his  voice  which  re- 
sponded to  her  rather  than  his  glance.  Vaughan's  voice  was 
far  more  flexible  than  his  face. 

"  I  have  never  had  what  I  want !  "  he  said.  "  I  don't  sup- 
pose I  ever  shall.  It  is  the  lot  of  some  poor  devils  to  have 
desires  which,  like  rock  plants,  would  have  to  grow  crookedly 
to  reach  the  sunshine  !  " 

"  There  might  be  a  little  sunshine  that  strayed  the  way  of 
your  desires  ?  "  said  Fate  wistfully. 

"  Was  a  man  ever  satisfied  with  a  little  ?  He  is  a  poor 
thing  if  so!  If  I  had  a  little  sunshine  I  should  probably 
want — the  sun  ! " 

"We  most  of  us  cry  for  the  moon  at  some  period  in  our 
lives.     It  is  no  worse,  I  suppose,  to  want  the  sun." 

"  Cry !  "  said  Vaughan  savagely.  "  I  shouldn't  cry !  I 
should  try  to  snatch  my  happiness,  and  you  know  the  fate  of 
all  rash  Phaetons  ?  " 

She  hesitated,  and  for  the  first  time  in  all  their  frank 
intercourse  she  came  near  to  speaking  a  veiled  truth  to  him. 
"  I  wish,"  she  said  on  impulse,  "  that  you  could  be  satisfied 
with  a  little  sunshine  !  " 

He  did  not  raise  his  eyes,  but  his  long  characteristic  fingers 
turned  the  pages  of  one  of  his  books  which  he  had  picked 
up  when  his  sister  flung  it  down,  and  the  restlessness  of  his 
heart  spoke  through  the  fluttering  leaves. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  in 

"I  shall   never  be  satisfied but  I   shall  appear 

lesigned  !  "  he  said. 

Fate's  red  lips  suddenly  sobered.  She  turned  away  from 
him  as  if  a  little  afraid,  or  a  little  ashamed,  and  looked  over 
Patricia's  shoulder.  Miss  Vaughan  had  been  animatedly 
discussing  fashion  plates  with  Patricia,  who  had  been  so  re- 
sponsive and  intelligent  as  to  restore  her  hostess's  entire  good 
humour.  And  considering  that  Miss  Mornington  had  all  the 
while  been  keenly  alive  to  a  strain  of  dangerous  reality  in  the 
air — a  guarded  conversation  near  her  that  she  could  not  hear, 
and  that  Miss  Vaughan  must  not  hear — it  says  much  for  her 
repose  of  manner  that  her  hostess  found  nothing  wanting  in 
her  courteous  attention.  At  the  moment  that  Fate  looked 
over  the  paper,  however,  expecting  blouses,  she  had  reached 
a  page  where  a  large  portrait  of  the  Countess  of  Harbinger 
proved  triumphantly  the  art  of  the  photographer — Chiffon 
in  her  name-sake  material,  with  white  shoulders  slipping  from 
a  fluff  of  frills,  regarding  an  appreciative  public  with  a  smile 
in  her  eyes  that  she  would  hardly  have  dared  to  give  a 
personal  admirer.  There  were  two  professional  beauties 
of  the  Stage  on  the  next  page,  but  they  were  hardly  as 
much  on  sale  for  sixpence  as  Chiffon  appeared  by  her 
portrait. 

"  That  is  a  pretty  face,"  said  Fate  Leroy  mechanically. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  " — Miss  Vaughan  leaned  over  also  to  see. 
"  Oh,  Lady  Harbinger.     She  looks  lovely  there." 

"  She  is  more  spontaneous  in  real  life,'  said  Patricia 
calmly.  "  I  dislike  that  man's  photographs — he  always  makes 
his  people  look  as  if  they  had  posed  before  a  looking-glass 
for  weeks." 

"  Do  you  know  her  ? "  Miss  Vaughan's  ill-bred  eyes 
snapped  the  question  before  her  lips. 

"  We  were  at  school  in  Paris  together,"  Patricia  explained 
quietly.     "  She  is  a  very  old  friend  of  mine." 

Miss  Vaughan  glanced  at  Patricia's  gown — mentally  at  her 
motor — and  grasped  the  situation.  She  was  not  an  obtrusive 
snob,  and  her  manner  did  not  alter  in  warmth  from  that 
minute,  but  a  distinct  little  glow  of  satisfaction  made  hei 
think  to  herself  that  that  was  why  she  had  found  Miss  Morn- 
ington so  charming — she  always  liked  the  best  class  of  people 
by  instinct.  Of  course  it  was  no  credit  to  her — it  was  in- 
grain; and  she  really  believed  in  her  own  self-glorification. 


112  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

There  is  nothing  so  misleading  as  the  wisdom  that  comes 
after  the  event. 

Two  minutes  later  Fate  rose,  and  Patricia  laid  aside  the 
paper,  closing  the  pages  gently  over  the  portrait  of  Chiffon 
as  though  she  were  glad  to  shut  the  sweet,  alluring  face  out  of 
sight — the  head  that  was  half  turned  as  though  she  called  to 
someone  over  her  own  white  shoulder !  Vaughan  rose  also, 
the  book  still  in  his  hand,  and  the  sentence  he  had  last  read 
still  in  his  brain. 

"  Of  this,  at  least,  I  feel  assured,  that  there  is  no  such  thing 

as  ultimate   forgetting a  thousand    accidents  may 

and  will  interpose  a  veil  between  our  present  consciousness 

and  the  secret  inscriptions  on  the  mind but,  whether 

veiled  or  unveiled,  the  inscription  remains  for  ever." 

It  was  De  Quincey's  "  Opium  Eater  "  that  he  laid  on  the 
table  to  open  the  door  for  Fate  Leroy  and  her  friend,  and 
the  sensations  of  moral  opium  eating  were  still  upon  him  as 
he,  rather  silently,  handed  them  into  the  patient  motor,  and 
stood  bare-headed  to  see  them  roll  away  in  the  sunshine. 

"Of  this,  at  least,  I  feel  assured,  that  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  ultimate  forgetting " 

He  turned  back  to  the  house,  which  had  suddenly  become 
haunted  by  a  woman's  fair  face  and  her  wistful  tone.  "  There 
might  be  a  little  sunshine  that  strayed  the  way  of  your 
desires  ?  " 

Not  for  him — not  without  dishonour  for  ever  guarded 
against,  and  disloyalty  to  two  friends — for  the  woman  who 
had  tempted  had  done  so  very  purely,  and  so  faintly,  that  he 
could  hardly  accuse  her.  She  had  only  failed,  as  women  do, 
through  her  very  capacity  for  tenderness  and  pity.  If  for  a 
minute  she  turned  from  her  husband's  side  to  cast  a  thought 
to  one  who  walked  apart  and  in  their  shadow,  it  was  but  the 
momentary  generous  desire  to  give  a  little  of  her  sunshine  to 
him  who  longed  for  it.  No  coarser  thought  could  have 
entered  into  his  conception  of  her;  for  had  she  had  one 
moment's  impulse  towards  him  material  enough  for  guilt  she 
would  not  have  been  the  woman  he  could  have  loved — had 
she  been  unwed. 

Vaughan's  was  by  no  means  a  happy  nature.  As  he  had 
said,  he  had  always  wanted  the  things  he  could  not  obtain,  lack 
of  means,  and  circumstances,  moulding  his  life  in  opposition 
to  his  tastes.     By  profession  he  was  an  electrical  engineer; 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  ^      113 

by  instinct  he  was  an  amateur  of  art,  in  the  best  sense  of  that 
maligned  word.  He  fancied  that  had  he  been  independent 
and  free  to  follow  his  own  bent  that  he  would  have  accom- 
plished something,  his  tastes  being  very  fastidiously  literary. 
But  it  is  probable  that  his  very  fineness  of  perception  would 
have  made  him  dilettante.  There  is  a  certain  coarse  strength 
in  the  creator — a  certain  dulness  to  anything  but  his  central 
aim,  and  a  narrow  outlook  that  sees  but  one  thing  and  that 
perfectly.  Vaughan  was  a  critic  rather  than  an  artist — a 
finer  type  of  brain  in  reality,  for  the  true  critic  is  required  to 
comprehend  rather  than  merely  to  follow  a  blind  instinct  of 
action.  His  natural  tendencies  found  no  scope  save  in  the 
amassing  of  books,  and  the  surrounding  himself  with  a  har- 
monious background  that  was  constantly  jarred  upon  by  his 
step-sister.  Apart  from  his  mental  hobbies  he  loved  the  out- 
side world,  and  spent  much  of  his  leisure  in  the  fresh  air, 
gardening,  and  cycling ;  but  the  man  of  moderate  means  is 
fretted  by  the  bounds  of  his  income  at  all  points,  and  Gerald 
Vaughan  rode  a  bicycle  while  all  his  instincts  led  to  horse- 
manship. It  was  certainly  a  pity  that  his  tastes  were  expen- 
sive in  the  country  in  which  he  lived,  for  had  he  been  a  back- 
woodsman they  would  have  been  regarded  as  modest  and 
natural.  He  was  an  excellent  shot,  through  having  been 
trained  in  the  preserves  of  a  rich  connection  when  he  was  a 
boy;  but  the  connection  having  died,  the  annual  invitation 
to  make  one  of  the  shooting-party  ceased,  and  Vaughan's 
life  drifted  into  more  usual  channels  for  the  Middle  Class 
man,  who  takes  a  seaside  holiday,  or  goes  on  the  Continent 
cheaply,  rather  than  to  a  friend's  coverts.  He  had  learned  to 
ride  when  he  learned  to  shoot ;  but  there  was  no  hunting  for 
him  in  his  daily  grind  of  hard  work,  and  scarcely  a  week-end 
to  be  obtained  when  he  was  really  busy.  He  had  not  even 
the  consolation  of  having  renounced  "  sport,"  as  being  beyond 
his  means,  for  marriage,  his  home  having  been  thrust  upon 
hirn  with  his  half-sister,  whose  income  added  to  his  made 
their  joint  establishment  very  comfortable,  but  who  would 
have  been  even  more  restricted  than  he  if  they  had  separated, 
since  she  belonged  to  the  non-earning  portion  of  the  com- 
munity. An  irritable  temper  and  uncertain  health  had  added 
the  last  touch  of  discomfort  to  Gerald  Vaughan's  existence. 
If  there  was  much  to  be  forgiven  in  him,  he  had  at  least 
much  to  forgive  Providence. 

8 


114  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

When  he  re-entered  the  sitting-room  after  seeing  the  motor 
vanish  down  the  shady  green  road,  the  sunlight  was  still 
slanting  through  the  open  windows  in  a  good-night  kiss  from 
the  west.  His  step-sister  had  moved  her  position,  and  all 
the  chairs  so  lately  occupied  were  empty.  But  in  one  of 
them  had  sat  a  woman  in  a  grey  gown,  whose  bright  hair  had 
been  touched  into  gold  by  an  errant  sunbeam.  He  had  not 
consciously  noticed  it  at  the  time,  but  now,  as  in  a  photo- 
graph on  his  brain,  he  saw  her  kind  face  turned  to  him,  and 
her  figure  such  a  natural  one  in  his  home  that  he  could  hardly 
believe  her  gone.     The  scent  of  her  presence,  that  was  as 

little  artificial  as  the  roses,  seemed  still  in  the  air 

his  friend's  wife ! 

He  walked  restlessly  about  the  room,  throwing  aside  the 
illustrated  papers  as  his  sister  had  done  the  books,  to  find  his 
own  possessions,  haunted  still  by  that  dangerous  sweet  ghost  of 
a  woman  whom  he  dared  not  let  remain  here,  even  as  a  ghost. 
He  had  forgotten  that  his  home  owned  a  very  tangible 
mistress  already,  until  her  voice  grated  on  his  uneasy  mood. 

"  I  wish  you  would  sit  down  and  settle  to  something, 
Gerald.  You  fidget  me  walking  about  like  that.  Why  can't 
you  smoke  or  read  or  talk?  I  wonder  where  Fate  Leroy  got 
to  know  Miss  Mornington !  She  comes  of  the  right  people, 
you  can  see  it  at  once.  One  always  knows !  "  the  complacent 
voice  went  on,  while  Vaughan  drew  his  breath  through  his 
thin  nostrils. 

"  Oh,  I  meant  to  tell  you,  Gerald,  the  housemaid  broke 
that  old  blue  china  cup  of  yours  this  morning.  She  was 
terribly  upset,  and  I  scolded  her,  of  course — but  you  shouldn't 
have  had  it  out  on  the  smoking-room  mantelpiece.  A  cabinet 
is  the  proper  place  for  that  sort  of  thing,  if  you  think  it  so 
valuable.     But  after  all,  that  Nankin  blue  is  only  delf !  " 

The  broken  piece — an  old  Caudle  Cup,  double-handled, 
and  a  pleasure  to  Vaughan's  eyes  many  a  time — suddenly 
became  a  votive  offering  to  the  gods,  who  thus  granted  relief 
to  one  over-charged  heart : 

"  Damn ! "  said  Vaughan  huskily,  and  swung  out  of  the 
room. 

There  had  been  a  momentary  silence  also  in  the  motor  as 
Mrs.  Leroy  and  Miss  Mornington  drove  away.  Then 
Patricia  said  drily :  "  I  understand  what  you  mean  by  the 
mustard  plaster,  Fate  1 " 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  115 

"  Yes !  isn't  it  Lenten  ?  "  said  Fate,  rousing  herself.  "  She 
has  an  evil  influence  on  me,  that  woman — and  yet  I  am 
humiliated  by  being  influenced  by  her." 

The  delicacy  of  a  good  woman's  conscience  is  agitated  by 
the  least  whisper  of  accusation  within  herself.  Fate  could 
not  have  put  a  name  to  it,  but  she  was  dissatisfied  with  some- 
thing in  her  own  conduct  during  the  last  half  hour.  It  did 
not  mend  matters,  to  Fate,  to  charge  it  on  a  woman  whom 
she  did  not  admire. 

"  Did  you  notice  Miss  Durham?  "  she  said  almost  abruptly, 
shaking  herself  free  of  the  mental  pinch. 
"  Was  that  the  girl  with  Mrs.  Carr  ?  " 
"Yes,  I   think  her  rather  pretty;   but  I   said  so  to  Mr. 
Vaughan  once,  and  he  protested  that  her  mother  had  sat  on 
her  and  spoilt  her  !  " 

Patricia  laughed  genuinely.  "  How  very  exact  Mr. 
Vaughan  is,  even  when  he  is  a  trifle  pettish  in  his  comments !  " 
she  said.  "  I  should  immensely  enjoy  hearing  him  describe 
some  of  the  people  I  know.  There  is  one  woman — an  in- 
timate of  my  mother's,  and  a  connection  (but  that  goes  with- 
out saying),  who  reminds  me  of  a  dark  doll.  She  is  quite  a 
pretty  doll,  you  understand,  and  most  expensively  made ;  but 
she  is  utterly  unreal  as  compared  with  Mrs.  Carr,  for 
instance." 

"You  might  not  find  Mrs.  Carr  a  particularly  intelligent 
woman  if  you  talked  with  her,"  said  Fate  quickly,  for  her 
mood  was  a  trifle  perverse. 

"  But  I  should  find  her  a  woman — not  a  doll !  "  said 
Patricia  quietly. 

"  Yes,  you  would,"  Fate  agreed,  and  for  a  moment  silence 
fell  between  them. 

"Why  should  the  women  whom  my  mother  knows  think 
and  speak  and  possibly  act  as  they  profess  to  do?"  Patricia 
burst  out  suddenly.  "  I  have  tried  to  be  charitable  accord- 
ing to  your  advice.  Fate  ;  but  though  I  can  forgive  the  results 
of  self-indulgence  and  luxury,  even  though  it  runs  to  the 
breaking  of  social  laws,  I  find  it  very  hard  to  forgive  the  ill- 
manners  and  ill-breeding  which  such  lapses  include.  Can 
you  fancy  any  of  your  friends  not  only  having  a  lover  as  well 
as  a  husband,  but  actually  parading  the  fact,  in  dumb  show 
at  least?" 

"  The  Middle  Class  woman  has  less  time  and  no  oppor- 

8* 


ii6  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

tunity  for  such — amusements,"  Mrs.  Leroy  said,  speaking 
more  slowly.  "  If  her  own  husband  is  in  town  or  at  work  all 
day,  all  her  friends'  husbands  are  the  same.  She  has  no 
chance  to  play  the  fool.  Sometimes  I  think  that  work  is  our 
salvation.  Women  and  men  like  myself  and  my  husband 
have  too  much  to  occupy  them  to  look  round  for  mischief. 
Work,  as  I  once  told  Gerald,  is  the  panacea  for  all  ills !  " 

"I  do  not  think,  even  with  opportunity,  that  the  women  I 
have  met  at  your  house  would  cheapen  themselves,  Fate. 
And  besides,  if  a  woman  wants  to  get  into  mischief  she  makes 
her  opportunity,  whatever  her  circumstances." 

"  Yes,  that  may  be  true.  The  women  I  know  have  been 
very  differently  trained  and  taught  from  their  youth  up  from 
those  of  whom  you  are  thinking.  Traditions  have  lingered 
amongst  the  Middle  Classes  that  the  Aristocracy  seem  to 
have  lost — traditions  and  obligations.  There  is  a  certain 
self-respect  amongst  us  which  takes  the  clothing  of  different 
expressions.  The  Middle  Class  wife  would  not  break  the 
Seventh  Commandment  because  she  would  say  *  I  should  lose 
my  self-respect,'  or  '  I  should  be  afraid  to  say  my  prayers  if  I 
did,'  apart  from  any  feeling  for  her  husband.  We  express 
it  differently,  according  to  our  temperaments,  but  we  mean 
the  same  thing." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  because  I  come  of  a  race  that  have  worked 
and  kept  their  womankind  sacred  that  I  feel  your  point  of 
view  so  intensely,"  said  Patricia.  "  On  one  side  at  least  I 
belong  to  the  Middle  Class — the  great  Middle  Class !  "  she 
repeated  half  wonderingly.  "You  know^  my  grandfather 
was  little  better  than  a  working  man  when  he  first  started  to 
run  his  own  patent.  Of  course  he  had  beerKeducated,  but 
he  actually  went  out  to  the  States  and  made  his  way  by  his 
own  efforts." 

"  And  you  are  verv  proud  of  the  fact !  "  said  Fate  with  her 
kindest  smile,  looking  at  the  unusual  flush  on  Patricia's  face. 
There  was  no  suggestion  of  the  hard  experience  of  labour  in 
this  supposed  descendant  of  a  working  man.  at  least — the  fine, 
rather  scornful  features,  the  splendid  carriage,  the  regal  droop 
of  the  eyes,  surelv  proclaimed  Patricia  a  Blais  rather  than  a 
Mornington.  Neither  of  them,  of  course,  saw  the  sad  irony 
of  th?  girl's  claim  to  the  Middle  Classes  and  their  sturdy 
virtues. 

"  Here  we  are  at  your  door  already ! "  said  Patricia  with  a 


AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN.  117 

sigh,  as  the  motor  stopped.  "  Staunton  must  have  been 
determined  to  show  what  the  motor  could  do.  It  seems  five 
minutes  since  we  left  Urden,  and  I  had  much  more  that  I 
could  have  said." 

"  Will  you  come  in  and  dine  and  say  it  later  ?  " 

"  I  wish  I  could.  I  have  to  dine  instead  at  yet  another 
restaurant — our  own  cook  being  as  good  as  heart  could 
desire ! — and  go  to  a  theatre  afterwards.  I  believe  we  are 
to  drop  in  at  a  card  party,  and  have  supper  somewhere  in  the 
small  hours,  later  on." 

"  You  will  want  all  your  health  to  stand  you  in  good  stead 
under  such  a  strain  as  that !  "  said  Fate  as  she  got  out  at 
her  own  gate.  "  I  am  honestly  thankful  that  I  can  live 
quietly  and  need  not  turn  night  into  day.  I  have  too  much 
respect  for  my  own  complexion  for  one  thing,  and  I  should 
be  afraid  of  growing  old  for  another." 

"  You  can  look  for  the  grey  hairs  next  time  you  see  me — I 
am  coming  down  again  soon,"  said  Patricia.  '^Home, 
Staunton." 

She  leaned  back  almost  as  if  weary  already,  as  the  motor 
cleared  the  pretty  suburb  and  threaded  its  way  to  the  river, 
across  the  Albert  Bridge,  up  the  wide  turnings  of  modern 
Chelsea,  across  the  King's  Road  with  its  dust  and  heat  and 
toiling  traffic,  until  suddenly  the  tyred  wheels  felt  better 
roads  beneath  them,  and  Patricia  was  bowling  smoothly 
northward,  up  through  the  quiet,  self-possessed  atmosphere 
of  South  Kensington.  As  she  leaned  back  on  the  cushions, 
and  looked  up  at  the  streets,  and  terraces,  and  squares  of 
large  comfort-speaking  houses,  she  began  to  realise  what  all 
this  meant,  for  here  in  its  greatest  expression  of  power, 
perhaps,  she  saw  the  region  of  the  Upper  Middle  Class,  that 
class  that  lives  its  own  life  in  its  own  world  without  ostenta- 
tion, without  any  of  the  restlessness  and  love  of  excitement 
which  was  the  very  motive  power  of  Lady  Vera  and  her 
friends.  Patricia  looked  at  the  great  solid  blocks  of  build- 
ing, and  recognised  the  great  solid  blocks  of  wealth  and 
stability  that  they  represented,  until  she  left  as  if  the  volume 
of  such  an  enormous  majority  crushed  her.  Here  and  there, 
sprinkled  amongst  the  respectably  unknown  it  might  be,  was 
some  householder  belonging  to  the  "  great  world  " — a  name 
so  familiar  to  Burke  and  Lodge  and  Debrett  that  it  was  known 
even  from  the  Court  circle  down  to  the  most  suburban  unit 


ii8  AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

just  emerging  from  the  working  population;  but  apart  from 
these,  and  overwhelming  them,  was  the  great  Middle  Class 
that  went  its  own  way,  and  knew  its  own  fractional  circle  of 
that  huge  body,  and  was  quite  content  to  be  unknown  to 
such  as  Lady  Vera.  The  Great  Middle  Class!  Patricia 
repeated  the  words  to  herself  over  and  over,  looking  up  at 
the  stolid  respectable  houses  that  resented  an  intrusion  on 
their  privacy  as  much  as  their  owners  would  have  done  a 
suspicion  cast  upon  their  womenkind.  She  thrilled  a  little 
with  the  fancy  that  she  also  belonged  to  these,  the  soUd 
strength  of  the  nation,  the  enormous  bulk  of  population  that 
was  nobody  in  itself  and  everybody  collectively.  Not  a  house 
for  acres  of  property  round  that  did  not  represent  at  least 
two  or  three  thousand  a  year  to  keep  it  up ;  not  a  house- 
holder that  did  not  mean  bigoted,  stiff-necked  prosperity,  in 
that  neighbourhood !  The  average  Briton,  whose  brains 
and  energies  have  gone  to  bring  him  this,  is  a  dull  fellow 
perhaps;  but  with  the  bitter  taste  of  recent  experiences  on 
her  tongue,  Patricia  was  almost  inclined  to  echo  Fate  Leroy's 
assertion : 

"  Work  is  the  panacea  for  all  our  ills !  " 

As  the  butler  admitted  her  to  her  own  home,  it  chanced 
that  some  late  visitors  of  her  mother's  were  just  leaving  it. 
They  stopped  to  shake  hands  with  Lady  Vera's  daughter, 
and  Patricia  noticed  with  vague  pity  that  the  oldest  of  the 
group — a  handsome  woman  over  forty — looked  worn  and 
harassed.  She  wondered  in  her  own  mind  whether  it  were 
Bridge  debts  or  something  more  serious,  as  she  went  slowly 
up  to  her  own  floor  by  the  lift.  As  she  was  passing  her 
mother's  rooms,  which  were  level  with  her  own.  Lady  Vera 
stepped  out  into  the  passage,  a  trace  of  excited  interest  in  her 
manner. 

"  Nougat,  did  you  meet  Emma  Harbutt  going  out  ?  "  she 
said. 

"Yes,  with  her  sister  and  Captain  Blais.  She  looked  to 
me  rather — tired." 

"  Tired !  My  dear,  there  has  been  the  most  awful  row ! 
Her  husband  has  read  some  letter  to  her  from  Windersley." 

"  From  Lord  Windersley  ?  " 

"Yes — oh,  for  Heaven's  sake  do  be  a  little  intelligent! 
Of  course  Windersley  has  been  her  friend  for  years — every- 
one knew  it.     Only  unhappily  he  wrote  her  a  silly  letter  and 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  119 

Richard  Harbutt  hadn't  guessed.  She  really  doesn't  know 
what  will  happen  now !  " 

"  I  should  suppose  not,"  said  Patricia  curtly,  turning  to 
her  own  domains.  Across  the  disgust  brought  upon  her  by 
Lady  Vera's  outspoken  scandal  fell  the  memory  of  Fate 
Leroy's  honest  confession  : 

"  Some  of  us  would  say  we  could  not  do  such  things,  be- 
cause it  would  lower  our  own  characters.  And  some  would 
tell  you  that  they  would  be  afraid  to  say  their  prayers  if  they 
did  them.  We  express  it  in  diflferent  ways — but  we  all  mean 
the  same  thing." 


120 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

"  We  asked  men  proven  in  harness 

For  themselves  and  the  Age's  needs  ; — 
They  have  given  us  Kings  by  tradition, 

And  Peers  by  their  father  s  deeds  ! 
Let  us  go  back  to  our  manhood, 
Forgetting  their  empty  creeds." 

The  Inheritance. 

In  spite  of  being  the  poorest  Duke  in  the  peerage,  and  an 
invalid,  his  Grace  of  London  was  popular  enough  to  draw 
feminine  attention  that  would  have  soothed  the  vanity  of 
many  younger  and  stronger  men.  It  cannot  be  said  to  have 
been  gained  by  cajolery  of  any  sort  either,  for  the  Duchess 
had  flatly  told  him  that  a  more  brutally  outspoken  person 
she  had  never  known. 

"  James  never  flattered  anybody  in  his  life,"  she  said,  with 
open  surprise  that  he  should  be  popular  to  the  extent  he 
was.  "Not  that  I  like  flattery — I  consider  that  it  is  treat- 
ing people  like  fools  to  lie  to  them.  But  the  rest  of  the 
world  will  rarely  stomach  a  truth-teller,  and  James  always 
tells  people  the  truth — ^the  utterly  unvarnished,  brazen  truth, 
about  themselves,  too !  " 

A  faint  resentment  mingled  with  the  Duchess's  surprise, 
for  she  told  people  the  truth,  herself — and  was  very  genuinely 
hated.  What  the  Duke's  secret  was  she  had  never  divined ; 
but  their  very  natures  and  all  their  tastes  were  so  at  variance 
that  it  was  not  wonderful  that  her  husband  should  be  a  closed 
book  to  her — not  sealed,  but  one  whose  covers  she  had, 
perhaps,  never  cared  to  open. 

The  Duke  professed  himself  afraid  of  women,  and  pleaded 


AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN.  121 

invalidism  to  excuse  him  from  fresh  introductions.  Never- 
theless, those  women  who  did  know  him,  very  sincerely  loved 
him,  and  would  put  other  social  engagements  aside  for  the 
pleasure  of  visiting  him,  all  the  more  when  his  illness  kept 
him  a  prisoner  in  his  own  chambers.  It  was  on  record  that 
once,  coming  co  enquire  for  his  old  friend.  Lord  Lowndes 
had  found  him  the  centre  of  a  group  of  the  most  beautiful 
women  in  London,  all  seeming  very  much  content  and  en- 
tertained though  their  host  was  the  only  man  present.  The 
assembly  was  a  purely  informal  one,  the  Duke  having  been 
aihng  for  a  week  or  so,  and  each  woman  present  having 
chanced  to  call  to  see  how  he  was  bearing  his  solitude. 
As  to  his  male  acquaintances,  he  would  sometimes  give 
Maunders  testy  orders  to  say  that  he  was  not  at  home,  their 
capacity  for  dropping  in  on  him  at  all  hours  being,  he  said, 
a  perfect  nuisance. 

"  They  don't  come  to  see  me — they  come  for  what  they 
can  get !  "  he  asserted  cynically.  "  It's  the  whisky  and  soda 
and  my  cigars  that  attract  them.  They  don't  have  to  pay 
here,  and  they  would  at  their  Clubs !  " 

The  Duke  had  a  way  of  ascribing  the  basest  motives  to 
humanity  in  the  sweetest  voice,  that  nobody  seemed  to  mind 
at  all.  But  perhaps  it  had  this  much  effect,  that  if  their 
motives  were  self-interested  his  frank  and  fearless  accusations 
made  them  ashamed.  As  the  Duchess  said,  the  Duke  was 
terribly  truthful. 

Patricia  lunched  with  Chiffon  the  day  after  her  visit  to 
Ashingham,  and  learned  from  her  that  the  east  wind  had 
given  the  Duke  a  bad  turn,  and  she  was  going  round  there 
that  afternoon  to  see  him  if  possible,  and  if  not  at  least  to 
enquire. 

"  I  will  go  with  you,  if  I  may,"  said  Patricia.  "  I  feel  that 
I  need  some  refreshment  after  a  morning  spent  with  Editha 
Blais  Heron.  She  arrived  at  ten,  and  talked  about  her  last 
affinity,  a  High-Church  Curate,  until  twelve — for  two  good 
solid  hours!  Then  I  pleaded  an  engagement  with  you  and 
escaped." 

"Gracious!     Ten  o'clock!     I  wonder  you  were  up." 

"  I  wasn't.  But  that  was  nothing  to  Editha.  She  sat  at 
the  end  of  my  bed  and  watched  each  stage  of  my  toilet  that 
I  did  not  deny  to  her.  And  she  commented  between  the 
gaps   of  Curate-reminiscences.      '  Don't  you  wear  pin-curls, 


122  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

Nougat?  What  are  you  going  to  do  next?  Is  that  a  new 
lotion  for  the  skin  ?  Do  let  me  see  how  you  use  it ! '  She 
chaperoned  all  I  did,  until  I  implored  her  to  go  into  another 
room." 

"  What  about  the  Curate  ?  "  said  Chiffon,  laughing. 

Nougat's  face  darkened.  "  Oh,  she  wanted  me  to  persuade 
her  to  persuade  herself  to  meet  him  under  the  rose.  As  I 
have  not  the  least  sympathy  with  a  love  affair  that  cannot 
be  carried  on  in  broad  daylight  I  could  not  advise  her  as 
she  wished.  How  can  a  woman  demean  herself  by  such 
assignations  and  tell  lies  to  compass  them !  It  would  make 
me  feel  like  a  housemaid." 

Chiffon  looked  a  little  curiously  at  the  pride  in  the  face 
opposite.  Patricia  had  a  way  of  drawing  back  her  chin  like 
a  horse  tightly  curbed. 

"  I  would  sooner  feel  like  a  housemaid  than  not  meet  the 
man  I  loved !  "  said  Lady  Harbinger  suddenly,  her  little  fair 
face  flushing  with  an  impulse  of  truth  and  vitality. 

The  revelation  of  the  statement  seemed  to  strike  Patricia 
dumb — a  revelation  not  so  much  of  Chiffon's  character  as 
her  own.  With  a  flash  of  self-knowledge  she  saw  that  even 
the  decency  of  her  reserve  had  its  drawbacks.  She  was  not 
capable  of  considering  the  reverse  side  of  the  picture;  in 
her  self-absorption  she  had  forgotten  love's  selflessness,  even 
in  degradation. 

"Oh,  Chiffon,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "you  are  more 
generous  than  I !  " 

"  I  am — a  fool !  "  said  Chiffon  almost  bitterly,  dashing 
the  tears  out  of  her  angelic  blue  eyes.  And  not  another 
word  passed  on  the  subject — then.  But  it  was  to  come  back 
to  Patricia  Momington  re-read  by  the  charity  of  her  own 
humiliation. 

The  footman  who  answered  the  door  when  Lady  Harbinger 
rang  the  Duke  of  London's  bell,  informed  her  ladyship  that 
his  Grace  was  very  poorly  and  could  see  no  one ;  but  Chiffon, 
catching  sight  of  a  quiet  black-coated  figure  crossing  the  hall, 
passed  the  footman  with  scant  ceremony  and  made  a  further 
appeal. 

"Oh,  there's  Maunders,  I  will  ask  him!  "  she  said.  "  Good- 
afternoon,  Maunders.     Is  the  Duke  reaJIy  too  ill  to  see  me?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  my  lady.  I  think  he  would  be  very  pleased. 
Lady  D'Aulnoy  is  sitting  with  him  now." 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  123 

"  There !  And  I  was  nearly  turned  away !  I  should  have 
been  cross  if  Aimee  D'Aulnoy  had  been  let  in  and  I  hadn't. 
Come  along,  Nougat." 

When  the  last  two  visitors  entered  the  Duke's  own  sitting- 
room  they  found  rivals  to  his  attention  already  in  possession. 
Lady  D'Aulnoy  was  sitting  by  his  great  invalid-chair,  Lord 
Lowndes  stood  on  the  hearthrug  in  a  square  attitude 
characteristic  of  him,  and  another  woman  with  red  hair  was 
writing  a  note  at  the  table.  Chiffon  seized  a  low  stool  in 
preference  to  the  chair  Lord  Lowndes  was  going  to  bring 
for  her  and  sat  down  literally  at  the  Duke's  feet. 

"No,  I  like  this  better!  "  she  protested,  turning  her  charm- 
ing, laughing  face  to  him.  "  If  I  sit  in  a  chair  I  shall  be 
miles  off,  and  Aimee  will  have  it  all  her  own  way,  I  can 
dispute  her  every  effort  to  engross  your  notice,  here." 

"  Well,  but  you  will  be  so  uncomfortable !  "  said  the  Duke, 
his  courtesy  so  outraged  that  he  made  an  instinctive  move- 
ment to  rise  and  winced  \vith  pain.  "  And  Miss  Mornington 
wants  a  seat,  too.  Lowndes,  you  might  bestir  yourself  and 
get  her  a  chair!  You  know,"  he  added,  turning  his  kindly 
eyes  on  Patricia  with  a  humorous  twinkle,  "  I  am  perpetually 
having  to  remind  Lowndes  of  the  manners  he  hasn't  got. 
They  never  paid  the  extra  penny  for  him  at  that  Grammar 
School  from  which  he  was  very  early  kicked  out ! " 

"  I  did  offer  Lady  Harbinger  a  decorous  chair,  but  she 
wanted  to  be  nearer  to  you,  you  old  ruffian !  "  retorted  Lord 
Lowndes,  swinging  another  seat  round  for  Patricia,  who  was 
standing  by,  openly  amused.  It  crossed  her  mind  that  every 
face  present  seemed  to  wear  its  best  expression,  the  very 
atmosphere  of  the  room  being  one  she  could  breathe  with 
ease — like  the  open  air  after  an  overheated  glass-house — 
and  her  eyes  were  the  more  tender  as  they  rested  on  the 
Duke.  He  was  so  effortless  a  gentleman  that  the  men  and 
women  round  him  forgot  to  be  unnatural  or  vicious,  and  all 
the  virtue  that  was  in  their  breeding  rose  and  overweighted 
the  vulgarity  of  their  social  training. 

"  How  is  the  Duchess?  "  said  Chiffon,  with  an  affectionate 
look  in  her  blue  eyes  that  was  quite  as  much  a  caress  as  if 
she  had  laid  her  hand  on  his  knee,  "  Still  running  the  parish 
of  Hyde?" 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes !  "  said  the  Duke,  drily.  "  She  likes  it, 
you  know,  and  I  shouldn't  be  any  use  down  there — a  cripple 


12^  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

like  me ! — so  I  leave  it  all  to  her.  See  what  I  mean  ?  "  His 
tone  was  almost  appealing. 

"  Of  course  not,"  the  red-haired  woman  joined  in,  turning 
round  from  the  table.  "  Besides,  one  really  can't  spare  you ! 
My  husband  says  you  are  the  only  virtue  to  which  I  cling. 
If  you  were  not  here  I  should  be  altogether  given  over  to 
cards  and  scandal." 

"  You  don't  know  my  niece,  Mrs.  St.  James?  "  said  the  Duke 
to  Patricia,  and  the  red-haired  woman  bowed  and  smiled. 

"  You  have  the  most  rippin'  motor  in  town,  I  hear.  Miss 
Momington ! "  she  said.  "  But  you  don't  drive  yourself. 
Frightened  ?  " 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  Patricia,  rather  entertained  by 
the  notion.  "  But  I  prefer  a  landauette  for  towri  work,  and 
electricity  carries  me  as  far  as  I  ever  want  to  go.  My  mother 
has  a  petrol  car  for  longer  distances." 

"Oh,  I  see.     Then  you  do  drive  that  sometimes?" 

"  No,  I  do  not.  I  think  it  very  dull  driving  an  engine  after 
horses.  I  am  very  fond  of  horses,  and  am  accustomed  to 
driving  them.     I  suppose  that  is  at  the  root  of  the  matter." 

"  Hateful  beasts !  "  said  the  Duke,  "  I  detest  horses.  They 
always  either  kick  or  bite  me.  The  last  time  I  was  at  Hyde 
we  went  for  a  drive,  and  the  pair  they  put  into  the  carriage 
were  too  fresh.  I  believe  my  wife  and  I  were  both  nearly 
killed." 

"Poor  Duchess!  and  she  is  so  nervous  over  anything  like 
that !  "  laughed  Lady  D'Aulnoy.     "  Did  she  scream  ?  " 

"  Oh,  like  a  peacock !  "  said  the  Duke  disgustedly.  "  Yes, 
and  the  worst  of  it  was  that  Lowndes  had  persuaded  me 
to  buy  those  horses.  Of  course  my  wife  put  the  whole 
thing  down  to  him !  She  said  it  was  a  judgment  on  me  for 
trusting  to  his." 

"  She  would  have  made  me  a  scapegoat  anyhow,"  said  Lord 
Lowndes  grimly.  "I  am  her  pet  vice.  Does  she  never 
come  to  town  now.  Pic  ?  I  haven't  set  eyes  on  her  for  years, 
but  I  hear  she  has  grown  stout." 

"  Oh,  she  is  immense !  "  said  the  Duke  with  great  candour 
and  impersonality.  "There  is  a  kind  of  balloon  of  skirts, 
and  you  are  always  having  to  dodge  round  her  in  order  to 
see  anything  the  other  side !  " 

"  In  fact  she  is  a  '  cottage,'  as  you  described  Lady  Harley !  " 
suggested  Patricia. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  125 

"Yes,  only  Alicia  is  more  than  a  cottage,  don't  you  know; 
she  is  almost  a  villa  now !  " 

In  the  midst  of  her  laughter  Patricia  saw  Maunders  enter 
the  room  with  a  telegram  which  he  brought  to  his  master, 
standing  like  an  inscrutable  image  at  the  Duke's  elbow  while 
he  settled  his  glasses  and  broke  the  envelope. 

"Talk  of  an  angel!"  he  ejaculated.  "This  is  from 
Alicia." 

"  No  bad  news  I  hope,  Duke  ?  "  said  Lady  D'Aulnoy. 

But  the  telegram,  though  enigmatic,  was  evidently  not  of 
an  alarming  nature. 

"  What  does  she  mean  ? "  said  the  poor  Duke  blankly, 
staring  at  the  form.  " '  Send  fifty  pink  monkeys  and  White- 
ley's  cat  at  once ! '  Good  God !  what  on  earth  is  the  mean- 
ing?" 

Maunders  face  twitched,  but  it  was  impossible  to  make 
himself  heard  for  a  moment,  from  the  genuine  laughter  in 
the  room.  Lady  D'Aulnoy  leaned  over  the  Duke's  shoulder 
and  re-read  the  cryptic  message: 

" '  Send  fifty  pink  monkeys  and  Whiteley's  cat ' — yes,  there's 
no  getting  away  from  it.  Can  you  make  anything  else  out 
of  it.  Lord  Lowndes?" 

Lord  Lowndes  took  the  paper  and  read  it  judicially. 
"Gone  stark  staring  mad,  I  should  say,"  he  remarked  cheer- 
fully. "A  little  bit  above  herself,  eh.  Pic?  Unless  it's  a 
mistake  of  the  Post  Office." 

"  Yes,  but  you  can't  get  anything  else  out  of  *  pink 
monkeys,'"  said  Chiffon,  wrinkling  her  pretty  eyebrows. 
"  And  fifty  is  such  an  obvious  word — stay !  does  she  contract 
her  words,  Duke?" 

"Oh,  good  Lord!"  said  the  exasperated  Duke,  "I  dare- 
say she  does.  She  is  capable  of  anything  if  she  sends  me 
that  sort  of  telegram." 

"Then  'cat'  is  catalogue!"  said  Chiffon  triumphantly, 
"and  the  monkeys  are  toys  for  a  school  treat,  depend  upon 
it.  She  has  seen  them  in  a  price  list,  and  she  wants  fifty 
and  the  full  catalogue  to  look  out  more  wild  beasts  and  tell 
you  to  send  them !  " 

"Chiffon,  you  are  really  brilliant!"  said  Mrs.  St.  James. 
"(I've  finished  mv  note.  May  I  give  it  to  Maunders,  Uncle 
James?)  But  why  on  earth  didn't  she  write  direct  to 
Whiteley?" 


126  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

"  She  never  does,"  said  Lord  Lowndes  with  huge  enjoy- 
ment. "  She  expects  Pic  to  go  and  choose  all  the  details  for 
her  charities.  Last  year  she  sent  him  a  list  of  woollen 
things  for  the  people  at  his  own  almshouses,  and  each  com- 
forter was  to  be  specially  chosen  for  old  John  Smith  and 
Molly  Snooks.  I  believe  Pic  gave  it  to  Maunders — eh, 
Maunders  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  lord  1  "  said  Maunders,  unmoved,  but  with  re- 
miniscence in  his  eye  of  the  Duchess's  wild  commissions. 
"Shall  I  send  the  order  to  Whiteley,  your  Grace?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  said  the  Duke  despairingly.  "Though 
they  will  think  we  are  aJl  mad.  Did  you  ever  see  such  a 
thing  ? "  he  added  to  Lady  D'Aulnoy,  " '  Send  fifty  pink 
monJkeys  and  Whiteley's  cat ! '  How  on  earth  was  I  to  know 
what  she  meant !  " 

"  If  Chiffon  hadn't  been  here  we  should  have  had  to  wire 
back :  *  Your  signals  not  understood,'  like  the  ships  in  the 
Naval  manoeuvres,"  said  Lady  D'Aulnoy.  "  Would  you  like 
me  to  go  to  Whiteley's  and  choose  the  monkeys  for  you, 
personally  ?  " 

"  No !  "  said  the  Duke  with  a  wrinkle  of  his  fine  nose,  "  I 
won't  have  you  take  such  trouble.  Maunders  can  go,  and 
see  the  things  packed  if  necessary.  A  pink  monkey!  How 
on  earth  do  they  expect  school  children  to  learn  natural 
history  if  they  give  them  such  abortions !  " 

"It  v/as  too  bad  to  try  to  send  you  out  in  such  weather, 
anyway ! "  said  his  niece,  joining  the  group.  "  The  wind  is 
east  to-day,  and  it's  as  cold  as  Christmas." 

"  Yes,  and  Lowndes  wanted  me  to  go  out ! "  said  the  Duke 
resentfully.  "  He  tried  to  persuade  me  to  walk  to  the  Club 
with  him.  I  told  him  I  knew  there  was  a  gale — my  body  is 
all  crooked  to-day." 

"Well,  you  are  not  a  lobster,"  said  Lord  Lowndes  con- 
templatively, from  behind  his  cigar.  "  If  you  put  a  lobster 
in  the  wind  it  dies  in  about  five  minutes.  I  suppose  you 
think  the  same  thing  would  happen  to  you." 

"  I  should  like  it  to  happen  to  me  in  such  weather  as 
this — fifteen  degrees  between  to-day  and  last  Thursday!  A 
walk  does  me  good  as  a  rule,  but — eh !  eh !  eh !  eh !  "  ejacu- 
lated the  invalid  rather  quaintly,  as  he  turned  in  his  chair. 
"The  wind  is  so  rude!  " 

The  Duke  had  a  feeling  that  winds  were  ill-bred  in  buffet- 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  127 

ing  him.  The  east  wind  in  particular  was  not  a  gentleman 
— it  was  probably  due  to  the  lamentable  fact  that  it  had 
never  been  to  Eton,  or  even  Harrow,  to  say  nothing  of 
Oxford.  The  manners  of  a  gale  distinctly  resembled,  to 
his  mind,  those  of  the  crowd  who  jostled  past  and  hurt  him 
if  he  walked  on  crowded  pavements.  And  yet  he  had  an 
objection  to  perpetual  red  cloth. 

"  I  am  so  looking  forward  to  the  winter,"  said  Patricia, 
musingly.     "  I  have  never  seen  one  in  England." 
There  was  a  chorus  of  exclamations. 
"  You  may  be  only  too  thankful !     It's  perfectly  awful !  " 
"  Half  of  it  is  fog,  and  the  rest  dirty  darkness ! " 
"  There  is  no  bright  sunshine  or  skating — at  least  in  town, 
you  know.     That  is  why  Princes'  exists." 

"  But  you  won't  see  the  English  winter.  Nougat,"  said 
Chiffon  with  sudden  remembrance.  "  Because  Lady  Vera 
always  goes  abroad  in  October.  She  says  she  hates  England 
between  that  month  and  May.  And,  really,  I  agree  with 
her ! " 

"  Do  you  ?  "  said  Patricia  serenely.  "  Then  I  am  sure  I 
hope  you  will  both  go  abroad.  I  will  tell  you  how  I  liked 
the  fogs  here,  however,  when  we  meet  next  season." 

As  if  by  common  consent  all  the  eyes  in  the  room  turned 
on  the  speaker,  a  trifle  curiously.  It  was  so  evident  that 
the  woman  with  more  than  Lady  Vera's  beauty  had  also 
as  much,  if  not  more,  of  her  strength  of  will.  The 
Duke  chuckled  a  little  to  himself  as  if  enjoying  the 
situation. 

"  I  hope  you  will  come  and  see  me  during  the  fogs  and 
the  darkness,  then,  Nougat,"  he  said,  "  I  at  least  am  always 
in  town,   don't  you  know." 

"  If  anything  could  have  increased  my  determination  to 
stay,  that  would  have  decided  it !  "  said  Patricia  complacently. 
"  I  hope  that  everyone  else  will  go  away,  and  then  I  shall 
have  you  all  to  myself." 

"  I  shan't  go  now !  "  said  Chiffon  gravely.  "  I  see  that 
Nougat  has  laid  a  deep  and  crafty  plan.  By  next  season, 
when  the  fog  lifts,  we  should  find  that  under  cover  of  the 
darkness  she  had  cut  us  all  out !  " 

The  Duke  laughed  delightedly.  He  was  as  honestly 
pleased  at  his  popularity  amongst  people  he  liked  as  he  was 
indifferent  to  the  opinion  of  those  he  despised— and  they 


128  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

were  many.  He  fitted  a  cigarette  for  Chiffon  into  one  of 
his  own  amber  holders  and  put  it  gently  into  her  pretty  mouth. 
"  I  know  you  are  dying  to  smoke !  "  he  said.  "  Harbinger  keeps 
you  half  starved  for  tobacco,  I  believe.  What  are  you  going 
to  do  this  year  for  a  holiday?" 

"  We  are  booked  for  half  a  dozen  shooting  parties,  and 
then  we  may  go  to  Cairo,"  said  Chiffon.  "  I  mean  to  be  back 
in  town  for  April,  however — so  Nougat  won't  have  it  all  her 
own  way !  I  lost  half  this  season,  but  it's  impossible  that 
Bobby's  relations  can  take  to  dying  two  years  running,  isn't 
it?" 

"You  are  not  going  yachting  this  year,  then?"  said  Mrs. 
St.  James,  looking  casually  at  Chiffon  beneath  half-lowered 
lids.  She  had  crossed  her  knees  and  was  leaning  sideways  in 
her  chair,  the  effect  being  that  of  an  insolent  French  sketch, 
for  she  was  a  woman  of  a  long  build. 

"  No." 

"  Mr.  Carberry  will  be  in  despair ! " 

"  I  am  tired  of  Americans." 

Something  in  the  innocent  questions  and  the  brief  answers 
made  Nougat  turn  her  eyes  from  one  to  the  other  with  a 
sudden  panic  fear — she  could  not  have  told  why.  She  had 
met  Mr.  Carberry,  and  thought  him  rather  a  mannerless 
man;  but  his  social  blunders  were  apparently  forgiven  on 
account  of  his  yacht  and  his  obliging  indifference  as  to  the 
people  he  asked  to  go  cruising  with  him.  Without  even 
asking  herself  what  Mrs.  St.  James  meant,  or  why  Chiffon's 
brevity  had  shocked  her,  she  rushed  suddenly  into  speech, 
addressing  the  Duke,  between  them. 

"  House-parties  seem  to  be  rather  stupid  things  nowadays. 
Aunt  Helen  used  to  tell  me  that  they  were  the  recognised 
change  from  London  life  years  ago,  but  then  there  were  only 
about  thirty  families  to  visit,  and  one  went  to  them  as  a 
matter  of  course.  All  my  ideas  are  derived  from  her  ex- 
perience, and  I  find  them  so  totally  out  of  date  that  I  am 
rather  in  the  position  of  Rip  Van  Winkle." 

"  The  whole  of  Society  has  changed  so  much  since  Helen 
Chilcote's  day  and  mine,  that  I  daresay  you  would,"  said  the 
Duke.  "When  I  was  young,  for  instance,  landowners  lived 
a  good  part  of  the  year  on  their  land,  and  an  estate  meant 
something  to  them." 

("So  it  does  now,"  Mrs.   St.  James  interpolated    drily. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  129 

"Rents,  preserving,  and  a  retreat  in  the  day  of  unavoidable 
retrenchment !  ") 

"In  a  big  house,"  went  on  the  Duke  musingly,  "  there  was 
always  a  comer  for  the  younger  son,  even  when  his  elder 
brother  came  into  the  title  and  married.  I  remember  in 
my  father's  house  we  each  had  our  room,  called  after  us — 
'  Lord  Cecil's  room,'  '  Lord  James's  room,'  '  Lord  Arthur's 
room.'  That  isn't  the  case  now.  The  younger  sons  of  good 
families  are  put  on  to  the  Stock  Exchange,  or  into  some 
wholesale  business,  to  sink  or  swim,  and  there  they  become 
mere  agents  to  introduce  their  friends  at  so  much  commis- 
sion to  themselves." 

"  But,  Duke,"  said  Lady  D'Aulnoy,  "  it  was  surely  a  bad 
plan  to  encourage  a  younger  son  to  live  idly  on  his  father, 
or  to  feel  that  he  could  do  so  ?  " 

"I  don't  mean  that  he  was  supposed  to  live  at  home — 
each  of  my  brothers  and  myself  had  a  certain  sum  of  money, 
;^io,ooo  generally,  and  were  supposed  to  make  our  way 
with  that  capital.  But  we  could  always  come  home  on  an 
emergency.  The  modern  method  turns  the  younger  son  into 
a  mere  shark,  living  on  the  acquaintances  he  has  made  in 
Society.  It  has  not  made  him  any  more  independent — 
you  can  see  for  yourself." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Lady  D'Aulnoy,  thoughtfully.  "  You 
were  a  younger  son,  yourself — were  you  not  ?  What  became 
of  you  ?  " 

"You  had  better  ask  what  became  of  the  ;^io,ooo, 
rather!"  said  Lord  Lowndes  with  intention.  "Pic  says  that 
he  went  out  to  the  Colonies  with  virtuous  aspirations,  and 
lost  most  of  it  growing  cereals.  The  majority  of  his  friends, 
however,  believe  that  it  went  in  riotous  living !  " 

"  Lowndes  is  jealous,"  said  the  Duke,  grinning  in  his  turn. 
"You  can  see  it  in  every  word  he  says.  He  never  had  a 
penny  to  call  his  own  in  his  minority,  and  he  was  brought 
up  in  a  stable.  That  is  why  he  talks  horsey  slang  instead 
of  decent  English  to  this  day !  " 

"I  learned  to  ride  and  had  decent  hands,  instead  of 
giving  my  mount  a  sore  mouth  like  you,  you  grain  thief !  I 
know  exactly  how  Pic  grew  rice — he  got  hold  of  some 
wretched  broken-down  Kaffir  and  beat  him  until  he  did  the 
work  for  him!  Of  course  in  those  days  such  atrocities 
never  came  to  light." 


130  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

"  It  sounds  more  like  the  last  Duke  than  the  present !  " 
put  in  Mrs.  St.  James.  "  Oh,  how  frightened  I  used  to  be 
of  your  father,  Uncle  James!  I  remember  seeing  him  once 
or  twice  when  I  was  quite  a  small  child — he  was  a  terrible 
old  man  with  eagle  eyes,  who,  in  my  memory,  always  wore 
riding  breeches  and  gaiters." 

"He  generally  did,"  acknowledged  the  Duke.  "He 
hunted  six  days  a  week,  up  to  the  time  he  was  seventy,  and 
he  was  quite  a  character  in  Dorset.  He  had  a  favourite  ser- 
vant to  whom  he  was  supposed  to  be  much  attached,  and 
the  poor  fellow  went  off  his  head  and  committed  suicide. 
They  hardly  dared  to  tell  my  father  at  first,  but  finally  some- 
one ventured  to  go  to  his  door  and  rouse  him  up — it  was 
late  one  night  when  it  happened.  '  Your  Grace !  your  Grace ! 
Poor  Rogers  has  drowned  himself ! '  they  shouted  through 
the  keyhole.  There  was  a  long  pause,  and  then  my  father, 
who  was  in  bed,  turned  over  and  growled  out :  '  More  damned 
fool  he!'" 

"  What  a  shock  for  the  person  communicating  the  news !  " 
said  Chiffon  with  a  bubble  of  mirth.  "Your  family  have 
evidently  no  sympathy  with  suicides !  " 

"  We  have  no  sympathy  with  fools !  "  said  the  Duke. 
"  Maunders  is  a  fool — I  told  him  so  yesterday,  and  he  cried. 
I  hate  men  servants.     They  all  cry." 

"  You  say  such  beastly  withering  things  to  them !  "  ex- 
postulated Lord  Lowndes  with  a  suppressed  chuckle.  "  Your 
remarks  are  worth  hearing.  What  was  it  you  told  Maunders 
the  other  day?     That  he  had  softening  of  the  brain,  eh?" 

"So  he  has — all  servants  have  more  or  less,"  said  his 
Grace  with  inhuman  disgust.  "That's  Maunders  now — 
knocking  at  the  door  when  he  knows  that  I  particularly  don't 
wish  to  be  disturbed.     Come  in ! " 

Maunders  opened  the  door  and  stepped  aside  to  admit  a 
last  visitor,  with  an  inimitable  reservation  in  his  manner. 
If  he  had  said  outright :  "  I-know-that-this-is-an-unwelcome- 
surprise-and-that  his-Grace-would-rather-that-I-announced-the- 
Devil-or-even-the-Duchess,"  he  could  not  have  expressed  it 
more  perfectly  than  in  his  discreetly  lowered  eyes  and  the 
utterance  of  three  words : 

"  Lady  Vera  Mornington !  " 

There  was  a  flicker  of  skirts  and  the  inevitable  gleam  of 
sequins,  for  it  was  a  spangled  year,  and  Lady  Vera  liked 


AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN.  131 

spangles.  Her  tall,  corseted  figure  generally  resembled  an 
artificial  snake,  the  appearance  being  that  of  some  falsely 
developed  body  tightly  bound  in  a  snake's  skin.  Her  tawny 
eyes  flashed  round  the  room  as  she  entered  and  took  in 
everybody  in  it  long  before  she  reached  the  Duke  with  a 
loud  greeting,  but  the  noise  of  her  entrance  was  not  due 
entirely  to  herself,  for  she  was  not  alone.  By  her  side,  or 
rather  in  front  of  her,  walked  a  little  girl  of  some  eight 
years,  with  an  assurance  far  excelling  that  of  any  woman  in 
the  room.  She  was  a  delicate,  pretty  child,  but  such  a 
miniature  of  Editha  Blais  Heron  that  Patricia,  though  she 
had  never  chanced  to  see  Valerie,  knew  that  this  must  be 
the  child  who  was  "  lent "  to  provide  a  domestic  atmosphere. 
Half  way  across  the  room  she  broke  into  a  little  run,  and 
flung  herself  upon  Mrs.  St.  James,  with  an  unreal  laugh, 
while  Lady  Vera  spoke  to  the  Duke. 

"  Ah,  James !  I  supposed  I  should  find  you  like  a  Grand 
Turk  in  your  harem !  If  I  lose  my  women  friends  I  know 
where  to  look  for  them — the  Duke  of  London's  rooms  are 
sure  to  be  full,  no  matter  who  else  is  deserted.  It  will  be 
a  notorious  scandal,  James." 

"  Yes,  in  your  hands !  "  muttered  Mrs.  St.  James,  a  little 
unwisely,  for  the  child  was  still  clinging  about  her,  and  a 
horrible  intelligence  came  into  the  fair  little  face  as  she 
caught  the  words. 

"  /  think  the  Duke's  very  naughty,  but  I  love  him  all  the 
same!  Don't  you,  Chiffon  dear?"  she  said  in  raised  tones, 
and  as  Lady  Harbinger  shook  her  head  at  her  and  laughed, 
she  turned  and  kissed  her  hand  affectedly  towards  the  invalid 
chair.  But  his  Grace  was  apparently  engrossed  with  Lady 
Vera. 

"Ah !  now  this  is  very  kind  of  you,  to  look  me  up.  Vera !  " 
he  said,  shaking  hands  with  her  as  kindly  as  if  he  did  not 
wish  her  at  least  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth.  His 
manners  were  perfect,  even  though  he  told  terrible  home 
truths.  "Won't  you  have  that  chair?  Lowndes  will  ring 
for  some  more  tea  for  you,  and  for  the  child." 

"  Thanks,  but  I  would  rather  have  a  cigarette — if  Valerie 
may  have  some  milk  and  something  to  eat,  that  will  do," 
said  Lady  Vera  with  a  quick  cold  smile  for  Lord  Lowndes. 
She  was  the  only  person  who  knew  them  both  and  preferred 
Lord  Lowndes  to  the  Duke  of  London,  her  preference  being 

9* 


132  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

based  on  the  fact  that  years  ago  he  had  admired  her  figure 
and  someone  had  kindly  repeated  his  remark  to  her.  Lady 
Vera  still  saw  Lord  Lowndes  as  a  man  who  admired  her 
figure,  though  he  had  long  ceased  to  look  her  way.  He  rang 
the  bell  at  once,  and  Maunders  was  sent  for  milk  and  what- 
ever sweetstuff  could  be  procured,  Valerie  eating  and  drink- 
ing, with  the  same  lack  of  manners  that  she  saw  round  her 
every  day,  as  soon  as  it  appeared. 

But  there  was  a  sense  of  discomfort  and  constraint  fallen 
upon  the  happy  little  party  with  these  latest  additions. 
Chiffon  joined  with  Lady  Vera  and  the  Duke,  Lord  Lowndes 
chatted  to  Lady  D'Aulnoy,  and  Mrs.  St.  James  still  talked 
to  Patricia  in  desultory  asides,  interrupted  by  the  child,  who 
was  evidently  unaccustomed  to  being  checked  in  anything 
she  chose  to  say,  and  looked  up  expectant  of  the  laughter 
that  did  not  come,  after  each  unnatural  speech  for  which 
she  evidently  cudgelled  her  poor  little  brain.  Of  all  the 
nightmares  which  she  had  found  the  strangeness  of  her  life 
to  resemble,  Patricia  had  thought  none  so  monstrous  as  this 
modern  phase  of  childhood.  Valerie's  mental  pose  was 
hideous,  and  as  she  sat  between  Mrs.  St.  James  and  her- 
self, Patricia  looked  at  the  pretty  mouth  with  the  unwiped 
milk  hanging  round  it,  as  if  the  child's  loquacity  had  stricken 
her  dumb.  When  Mrs.  St.  James  asked  her  if  she  were 
ever  shy,  and  Valerie  answered  "  Rather  not !  "  she  felt  as 
if  the  assurance  were  a  tragic  thing  because  so  painfully 
unnecessary. 

The  harmony  of  the  room  was  gone,  and  the  vague  scent 
which  seemed  to  emanate  from  the  glittering  folds  of  Lady 
Vera's  gown  might  have  been  a  poisonous  essence  from  its 
effect  on  the  atmosphere.  Her  hard  bright  personality  was 
so  utterly  unsympathetic  with  suffering  that  her  daughter 
had  a  vague  discomfort  in  seeing  her  seated  so  near  the 
invalid  chair.  It  was  a  ridiculous  impulse,  but  she  longed 
to  get  between  her  and  the  Duke,  as  if  her  own  more 
splendid  strength  might  keep  the  cruelty  of  the  other  woman 
at  bay. 

"  I  have  been  to  see  The  Broken  Tie — it's  simply  killing !  " 
said  Lady  Vera,  as  the  Duke  politely  supplied  her  with  a 
cigarette.  "  I  took  Valerie  to  see  what  she  would  say  to  it, 
and  she  remarked  that  the  erring  wife  and  her  lover  looked 
just  like  Lady  Harbutt  and  Lord  Windersley,  but  she  hoped 


AS  YE  HAVE   SOWN.  133 

it  wouldn't  come  to  that!  Of  course  she  only  repeats  that 
kind  of  speech  like  a  parrot — she  doesn't  know  what  she 
says.  But  I  screamed  more  at  her  than  at  the  piece.  Isn't 
she  a  duck  in  that  white  bonnet  and  her  red  curls!  She 
looks  so  innocent,  and  she  says  such  awful  things !  The  man 
sitting  next  to  her  wanted  to  give  her  some  tea,  after  flirting 
with  her  between  the  acts,  but  theatre  tea  is  so  filthy  I 
thought  I  would  come  on  here.  I  would  much  rather  smoke 
than  drink  tea,  anyway.  What  are  you  doing  to-night, 
Chiffon?     I  want  a  fourth  for  Bridge." 

"  I  daren't  play  any  more  this  week ! "  said  Chiffon,  with  a 
reckless  little  laugh.     "  I  lost  erer  so  much  last  night !  " 

"  Never  mind — come  and  win  it  back.  Or  we  will  play 
Wall  Street,  and  have  a  good  old  rowd.  We  tried  the  other 
night,  with  a  pool.  Car  cheated,  I  know,  but  you  can't  get 
at  the  truth  when  everyone  is  yelling." 

"  I  hope  Caryl  will  not  play  if  he  is  going  to  make  as  much 
noise  as  last  time !  "  said  Patricia,  turning  from  Mrs.  St. 
James,  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders,  and  a  relief  that  sur- 
prised herself  at  the  change  in  the  conversation.  For  Lady 
Vera's  remarks  about  Valerie  had  been  perfectly  audible  to 
the  child  herself  on  the  other  side  of  the  room,  and  were 
about  equal  in  their  folly  and  probable  effect.  "  He  could 
be  heard  as  far  as  the  Marble  Arch." 

"  Nougat  was  disgusted !  "  said  Lady  Vera  with  her  metallic 
laugh.     "Her  attitude  is  generally  that  of  the  Pharisee." 

"  It  is  indeed,"  said  Nougat,  quite  unmoved  by  the  accusa- 
tion. "  I  daily  thank  my  God  that  I  am  '  not  as  this  man ' — 
if  that  means  Caryl  Lexiter  when  he  screams !  " 

"I  haven't  played  Wall  Street,"  said  Chiffon,  with  some 
sort  of  an  effort.     "  Is  it  such  a  noisy  game  ?  " 

"  It  depends  on  the  players  a  good  deal,  I  should  think! " 
said  Patricia,  drily,  ignoring  an  assertion  in  Valerie's  clear 
voice  that  she  had  played  Wall  Street  and  won  ten  shillings, 
"  Don't  you  think  we  ought  to  be  going  home  ?  "  she  added, 
turning  easily  to  Lady  Vera,  but  with  the  manner  of  a 
pleasant  acquaintance.  Patricia  had  an  air  of  accepting  Lady 
Vera  as  one  might  the  inevitable  circumstances  arranged  by 
Providence — but  by  no  means  one's  own  choice.  "  I  think, 
if  you  remember,  we  dine  half  an  hour  earlier  to-night." 

"Do  we?"  said  Lady  Vera  carelessly,  "I  have  quite  for- 
gotten, if  we  do.     How  on  earth  did  you  remember?     Oh, 


134  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

yes,  of  course  " — her  whole  face  altered  in  a  curious  fashion, 
the  hard  look  deepening  into  an  indefinite  resentment — "  Giles 
has  some  Company  Meeting  on  to-night,  I  believe.  A  private 
conclave  of  shareholders,  or  some  such  solemnity.  I  can't 
think  why  he  could  not  dine  at  his  Club ! "  she  remarked  dis- 
contentedly to  the  company  in  general. 

"  I  wish  my  husband  were  on  boards  and  controlled  com- 
pany meetings  with  the  same  genius !  "  sighed  Lady  D'Aulnoy. 
"  I  never  look  at  Giles  and  remember  what  an  extraordinary 
power  his  name  has  in  finance,  but  I  feel  actually  withered. 
I  wonder  he  ever  speaks  to  anyone  so  trivial  and  frivolous 
as  we  must  all  appear.  Are  you  really  going,  Vera  ?  Good- 
bye.    I  shall  see  you  to-morrow,  I  suppose." 

"Where?" 

"  Oh,  anywhere.  We  are  all  bound  to  meet  now  the 
season  is  over.  One's  circle  is  so  small  that  everyone  in  it 
does  exactly  the  same  things  as  oneself.  You  were  not  at 
the  American  party  the  other  night,  by  the  way  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  go  to  political  things.  Thev  bore  me  to 
death." 

"There  was  an  awful  crush,  and  they  docked  us  of  all 
our  prefixes.  So  odd,  isn't  it,  to  come  into  a  country  where 
certain  formalities  are  customary,  and  to  drag  in  their  own 
hrusquerie!  I  must  own  it  was  a  shock  to  me  when  I  heard 
myself  announced  as  *  D'Aulnoy,'  and  one  of  the  Dukes — 
Westminster,  T  think — went  in  before  me  with  nothing  but 
his  name  to  herald  him.  I  suppose  they  think  that  titles 
give  us  an  unfair  advantage,  and  are  determined  that  we  shall 
not  outshine  the  Americans.  But  it  sounded  so  odd  and 
uncivil  !  " 

"What  a  sell  for  the  American  women  who  have  married 
for  the  title !  "  said  Lady  Vera,  with  a  harsh  laugh.  "  Was 
Carberry  there  ?  " 

"Yes,  just  as  rude  as  ever.  I  wish  he  did  not  think  that 
his  money  did  instead  of  manners.  I  can't  think  why  we 
all  bear  him.  He  is  worse  than  the  South  African  mil- 
Uonaires.  I  heard  him  tell  Lena  Haversham  that  she  had 
aged  a  good  deal  since  they  last  met !  He  sent  a  message  to 
you.  Chiffon,  by  the  way,  but  it's  too  long  to  deliver  here. 
Shall  I  drive  you  home  ?  " 

"Thanks.  I  told  the  carriage  not  to  wait,  and  if  I  am 
to  dress  and  come  back  to  play  Wall  Street,  I  must  rush!  " 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  135 

said  Lady  Harbinger,  jumping  up  from  her  lowly  seat. 
"Good-bye,  Duke!  I  feel  so  much  better  for  my  visit.  I 
love  coming  here." 

"  Then  I  hope  you'll  come  as  often  as  you  like ! "  said  the 
Duke,  looking  up  into  the  smiling  blue  eyes.  They  were 
quite  simple  in  expression  at  the  moment,  and  just  repeated 
what  her  lips  had  said — that  she  felt  better  for  coming 
there.  Patricia,  standing  behind  her,  put  her  hands  on  the 
slight  shoulders  with  a  quick  warm  pressure.  She  was 
taking  her  mother  away  simply  because  she  felt  the  discom- 
fort she  had  somehow  brought  into  the  party,  but  she  was 
sorry  that  her  action  seemed  to  be  breaking  it  up. 

"Have  we  tired  you,  Duke?"  she  said  quietly,  as  they 
shook  hands. 

"  No,  no !  Not  at  all !  "  he  replied  genially,  but  there  was 
a  new  weariness  in  his  kindly  eyes  that  had  not  been  there 
before  Maunders  announced  Lady  Vera.  Some  people  are 
mental  vampires  by  reason  of  their  very  selfishness — they 
exhaust  the  healthy  atmosphere  into  which  they  enter,  and 
suck  the  vitality  out  of  better  natures.  Perhaps  the  other 
women  saw  it  as  Patricia  did,  for  they  one  and  all  rose 
leisurely  and  made  their  adieux,  Lord  Lowndes  crossing  the 
room  and  opening  the  door  for  them.  Lady  Vera  was, 
after  all,  the  last  to  leave,  because  she  stood  chatting  with 
him  at  the  door,  letting  in  a  draught  whereat  the  Duke 
shivered.  Patricia  had  firmly  taken  possession  of  Valerie, 
and  led  the  child  away  from  the  Duke,  it  being  impossible 
to  repress  her  high  chatter  while  she  was  in  the  room ;  but 
they  had  been  waiting  in  the  hall  for  some  minutes  before 
Lady  Vera  appeared  to  realise  that  she  was  keeping  anyone 
waiting,  and  with  a  last  shallow  smile  in  her  large  cold  eyes 
she  nodded  to  Lord  Lowndes  and  departed. 

"  That  woman  always  makes  me  feel  as  if  she  had  the 
evil  eye!  "  said  the  Duke,  with  a  shrug  of  his  whole  body, 
as  the  door  closed  on  Lady  Vera's  tinselled  tail.  "  When 
she  has  been  in  the  room  with  me  I  feel  so  much  worse ! 
And  then  she  brings  that  noisy,  ill-bred  child  with  her!  It 
is  a  marvel  to  me  that  any  man  found  her  attractive,  even 
when  she  was  good-looking."  The  emphasis  of  the  past 
tense  as  applied  to  Lady  Vera  Momington  made  Lord 
Lowndes  laugh  shortly. 

"If  all  accounts  are  true  she  numbered  her  slain  by  tens 


136  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

of  thousands !  "  he  said.  "  Certainly  I  can  recall  a  dozen 
men  who  claimed  to  be  rather  more  than  kin  to  her."  He 
lit  a  fresh  cigar  and  pushed  his  hand  absently  through  his 
thick  curly  grey  hair.  "  I  have  always  wondered,"  he  said 
musingly,  "  who  was  responsible  for  Nougat.  Whatever  her 
mother's  claim  to  beauty  was,  hers  is  undeniable.  It's  a 
trifle  hard  on  Momington  that  she  should  not  be  his 
daughter !  " 

"A  woman  like  Vera  Blais,"  said  the  Duke  with  convic- 
tion, "  is  more  than  a  trifle  hard  on  anyone  connected  with 
her.     She  is  hard  lines  all  round,  in  any  capacity." 


137 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  Sweet,  let  me  kiss  your  hand  : 
If  it  so  be  a  man  may  stand 

So  near  to  bliss. 
Blue  veins  along  the  wrist, 
Soft  palm,  made  to  be  kissed — 
To  take  my  claim  to  honour  with  the  kiss. 

"  Sweet,  let  me  kiss  your  lips  ! 
If  it  so  be  I  may  eclipse 

The  Heaven  I  miss, 
One  moment's  perfect  sin 
To  suck  the  sweetness  in  .   .   . 
So  take  my  hope  of  Heaven  with  the  kiss." 

La  Grande  Passion, 

There  was  a  popular  fallacy  in  the  Lexiter  family  that  Caryl 
was  his  father's  secretary,  and  in  some  sort  his  man  of  busi- 
ness. The  only  person  who  did  not  share  in  it,  to  some 
extent,  was  poor  Lord  Queensleigh  himself.  He  knew  that 
he  gave  his  second  son  an  income  for  writing  his  letters  and 
shepherding  his  investments ;  he  knew  also  how  curiously 
elusive  Caryl's  personality  was  apt  to  be,  so  that  when  he 
wandered,  in  an  aimless  fashion  peculiar  to  him,  into  his 
study,  there  was  no  secretary  on  duty  to  transact  the  business 
for  which  he  had  suddenly  felt  a  capacity.  Lord  Queens- 
leigh generally  ended  by  writing  his  own  letters,  and  apolo- 
gised to  Caryl  for  being  so  uncertain  in  his  attention  to 
business. 

There  was,  in  truth,  something  to  be  said  on  both  sides. 
Caryl  had  been  kept  at  home  and  allowed  to  idle  thi;ough  his 
youth,  gaining  nothing  but  the  acquirement  of  the  best  seat 
and  hands  in  the  County,  a  reputation  for  always  hitting  what 
he  aimed  at,  and — a  few  other  experiences  that  did  not  de- 


138  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

tract  from  his  charm  of  manner.  He  was  old  enough  to  be 
connected  with  the  former  state  of  things  to  which  the  Duke 
of  London  referred  when  he  said  that  in  certain  big  houses 
younger  sons  kept  their  foothold  as  well  as  the  heir,  and 
had  their  rooms  reserved  to  them  after  they  went  out  into 
the  world.  Caryl  had  always  had  his  corner  at  Queensleigh ; 
as  to  whether  it  would  be  so  still  after  Lord  Loftus  succeeded 
his  father  he  never  appeared  to  speculate.  It  seemed  prob- 
able, however,  that  the  "  damn  good  fellow  "  of  the  Duke's 
description  would  follow  the  family  rule  of  "  making  things 
up  to  poor  old  Car."  Caryl  had  been  the  biggest  and  hand- 
somest and  wickedest  of  Lady  Queensleigh's  sons,  Hawarden, 
the  youngest  brother,  being  a  full  inch  and  a  half  shorter, 
and  having  gone  into  the  Church  with  nothing  to  hinder 
him  save  the  few  thousands  in  debts  with  which  he  had  left 
Cambridge.  It  seemed  somehow  hard,  even  in  Lord  Loftus's 
mind,  that  he  had  outpaced  his  second  brother  by  a  year, 
and  gained  the  inheritance  which  Caryl  might  have 
squandered  so  gracefully.  He  felt  it  "  rough  on  poor  old 
Car,"  and  realised  that  he  himself  was  not  so  typical  a 
Queensleigh  as  his  junior.  There  was  not  even  the  reproach 
of  a  ruined  servant  girl  against  Loftus,  and  a  House  owes 
something  to  its  traditions.  In  its  secret  heart  the  family 
was  proud  of  Caryl  and  his  vices,  for  it  is  hard  to  uproot  an 
inherited  admiration — even  for  a  scoundrel. 

Caryl  had  enjoyed  being  young  very  much  indeed ;  he  was 
enjoying  a  spurious  middle-age  quite  as  much,  and  the  prob- 
ability was  that  at  eighty  he  would  still  be  looking  out  on  an 
interesting  world  with  wicked,  appreciative  eyes,  as  amused 
with  his  own  interpretation  of  it  as  with  the  thing  in  itself. 
His  mental  attitude  had  a  certain  charm  for  Caryl,  and  of 
all  his  admirers  he  was  himself  the  most  constant.  A 
pleasant,  unreliable,  and  artistically  selfish  man,  he  had  never 
lacked  that  innate  something  that  breeding  and  training  can 
give,  though  he  might  act  the  cad  in  the  guise  of  the  gentle- 
man. 

"  Let  me  hear  a  group  of  men  talking,"  said  the  Duke  of 
London  once,  "  and  I  will  tell  you,  without  knowing  one  of 
them,  which  has  been  properly  brought  up — I  mean,  of 
course,  from  Our  point  of  view.  He  may  be  the  greatest 
blackguard  of  the  lot,  but  if  he  has  the  right  manner  I 
would,  I  am  afraid,  rather  talk  to  him  than  to  the  honest 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  139 

bounder.  I  can't  tell  you  what  it  is,  but  I  can  hear  it  among 
a  dozen  voices — I  know  it  from  the  way  a  man  puts  on  his 
hat !  A  gentleman  doesn't  even  pick  a  pocket  like  a  trades- 
man." 

The  Honourable  Caryl  Lexiter  did  not  pick  pockets;  but 
if  he  had  done  so  he  would  have  fulfilled  the  Duke's  distinc- 
tion. He  had  always  the  certainty  of  social  success  with 
him,  and  it  gave  him  the  graceful  insolence  which  Patricia 
Momington  had  net  yet  decided  whether  she  liked.  Other 
women  did,  however.  Caryl's  acquirement  of  the  inexpres- 
sible something — the  "  right  manner  " — had  made  his  sins 
bearable  upon  the  surface,  and  he  had  taken  his  successes  as 
lightly  as  Gawain,  of  whose  type  he  was : 

"  Light  was  Gawain  in  life,  and  light  in  death." 

The  indulgence  of  his  own  family  had  had  its  moulding 
effect  upon  his  character  also.  Oh,  but  we  are  hard  upon 
our  "  younger  sons  "  when  we  train  them  in  idleness  and  de- 
mand nothing  of  their  inherited  powers  but  the  facility  of  the 
saddle  and  the  gun  !  The  grit  that  should  have  gone  to  help 
the  Nation  forward  is  bestowed  upon  trivial  things  nowadays. 
His  fathers  won  it  for  him  centuries  ago — but  he  is  only  asked 
to  prove  his  manhood  at  Hurlingham,  or  at  best  in  the  Solent. 
And  it  really  seems  as  if  he  certifies  himself  the  son  of  an  old 
house  most  undeniably  in  the  spending  of  money.  Even  the 
Services  are  recruited  from  the  great  Middle  Class  to-day, 
and  the  nobleman's  brother,  if  he  must  work,  sells  goods  upon 
commission.  Caryl  had  been  the  show  son  of  the  family  for 
nearly  thirty  years,  and  had  tried  the  resources  of  the  junior 
in  all  forms  ;  he  was  a  known  man  for  country-house  parties, 
and  was  asked  out  in  London  for  his  Bridge — he  played 
fairly,  notwithstanding  Lord  Lowndes's  opinion,  and  his 
advantage  Avas  simply  skill  and  knowledge  of  the  game ;  but 
he  perceived  a  more  solid  establishment  in  life  opening  before 
him  than  is  usually  the  lot  of  younger  sons,  and  regarded 
these  ephemeral  advantages  as  less  to  be  relied  upon  in  the 
future  than  he  had  been  forced  to  do  in  the  past.  He 
was  going  to  marry  Patricia  Mornington — he  did  not  even  add 
"  if  she  would  have  him,"  for  he  felt  sure  of  it.  She  would 
have  a  fortune  that  made  other  heiresses  look  puny,  and  was 
without  physical  drawbacks  to  detract  from  her  desirability, 
but  he  never  doubted  that  he  should  be  the  favoured  above  all 


I40  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

other  suitors,  and  he  had  a  certain  assurance  for  this  belief 
in  Lady  Vera's  concurrence.  For  ten  years  Caryl  Lexiter  had 
been  learning  the  ethics  of  Vera  Momington's  character,  and 
had  found  her  a  study  that  exceeded  his  conceptions  of 
women,  whom  he  had  otherwise  held  lightly.  He  did  not 
hold  Lady  Vera  lightly,  but  whether  his  attitude  towards  her 
were  founded  on  admiration  or  something  a  shade  stronger 
and  darker,  was  known  only  to  that  inward  self  which  lay  far 
behind  his  charming,  unprincipled  exterior. 

Lord  Queensleigh's  excuses  for  his  unbusinesslike  habits 
had  really  some  foundation.  He  proposed  to  get  through  a 
certain  amount  of  letter-writing,  and  to  give  Caryl  a  vague 
thing  which  he  called  "  instructions "  in  the  morning ;  but 
more  often  than  not  his  appearance  was  not  until  one  o'clock, 
when  he  read  the  paper  and  yawned  beforehand  over  a  pro- 
spective duty  in  the  House  of  Lords  during  the  Session. 
His  succession  in  a  political  family  had  made  an  occasional 
attendance  an  obligation,  but  if  there  were  a  personality 
which  Lord  Queensleigh  loathed  it  was  that  of  his  party's 
Whip.  There  was  only  one  occasion  on  which  he  felt  it 
important  to  be  present  and  to  vote,  and  that  was  the  question 
of  making  great  race-meetings  a  holiday — particularly  for 
Peers.  On  that  subject  he  felt  so  keenly  that  he  would  almost 
have  tried  to  speak  (and  his  powers  of  oratory  were  so  well 
known  that  he  was  not  even  allowed  to  get  upon  his  feet  at 
public  dinners),  but  during  all  others  he  was  content  to  doze 
if  he  could  not  escape  actual  bodily  presence.  If  the  House 
of  Lords  is  ever  abolished  it  will  come  by  reason  of  internal 
heresy  on  the  vote  of  such  men  as  Lord  Queensleigh. 

Knowing  his  father's  peculiarities,  Carvi  did  not  trouble 
to  rise  early  unless  there  were  personal  reasons  to  urge  him. 
He  breakfasted  in  his  own  room  when  staying  in  his  father's 
town  house,  and  came  out  of  it  about  eleven  o'clock,  clean 
and  clear-skinned  in  spite  of  last  night's  card  party,  his  fine 
face  a  scoff  to  many  men  who  still  lingered  on  at  White's, 
but  whose  yellow  dissipation  denied  them  under  the  decorous 
thirty.  According  to  his  custom  he  rose  and  dressed  at  the 
usual  time  after  the  night  of  Lady  Vera's  Wall  Street  party, 
and  rang  for  Lord  Queensleigh's  man,  who  found  that  he 
could  combine  an  attendance  upon  his  master  and  Caryl  by  a 
neat  dovetailing  of  their  requirements.  When  it  came  to 
Caryl's  coat,  the  valet,  who  was  a  small  man,  made  a  ludicrous 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  141 

effort  to  lift  it  in  approved  fashion  on  to  the  huge  shoulders 
over  his  head,  and  rising  on  tiptoe  regularly  upset  Caryl's 
gravity,  though  only  his  eyes  were  allowed  to  dance.  He 
always  saw  the  pantomime  in  the  glass,  the  little  man  strain- 
ing upwards  with  puckered  lips,  and  his  own  inclination  to 
stoop,  and  it  never  lost  its  humour. 

"  Thanks,  Harris  !  "  he  said  pleasantly,  feehng  it  a  relief 
to  let  his  lips  relax.  Harris  had  no  sense  of  humour.  It 
would  have  been  unkind  to  accentuate  his  inadequacy,  and 
Caryl  was  never  disagreeable  to  servants.  No  man  with  the 
Duke's  "  right  marnier  "  and  "  proper  bringing  up  " — (Our 
point  of  view,  of  course !) — ever  is. 

"  One  of  his  lordship's  handkerchiefs,  sir  1  "  said  Harris 
solemnly,  handing  up  the  article. 

"Eh?"  said  Caryl  in  surprise.  "What's  become  of  all 
my  own,  then?  " 

"  I  think  you  must  have  lost  some,  sir,  the  last  time  you 
went  to  Brighton,"  said  the  man,  without  any  intention  of 
disrespect  or  suggestion.  "  You  lose  a  good  many  things  at 
a  week-end,  sir — especially  at  Brighton." 

"  Oh — ah  !  "  said  Caryl,  as  if  a  little  reminiscent.  "  You're 
sure  the  washing  is  properly  checked,  Harris?" 

"  Oh  yes,  sir." 

"  And  the  housemaid  reliable  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  sir.     But  if  you  wish  to  make  enquiries " 

"  Oh  no ! "  said  Caryl  easily,  with  a  shrug  of  his  broad 
shoulders.  "  I  never  make  enquiries.  I  do  as  I  would  be 
done  by  in  this  world.     Still,  how  can  I  have  lost  two  dozen 

pocket    handkerchiefs? The    only    thing    to    do, 

Harris,  is  plainly  to  go  out  and  buy  more.  My  father  up 
yet?" 

"  No,  sir.  His  lordship  is  still  asleep.  Not  breakfasted 
yet." 

"  Very  well.  Tell  him  I  shall  be  back  to  lunch,  if  he  asks 
for  me." 

"  Shall  they  call  you  a  hansom,  sir  ? " 

"  No,  I'll  walk." 

But  it  was  not  a  walk  so  much  as  a  saunter  when  he  set  off 
from  the  house  in  Portland  Place  and  turned  his  face  towards 
Piccadilly.  The  day  was  threatening  heat,  the  pavements 
even  now  appearing  to  throw  up  an  odour  of  baked  dust. 
Yesterday's  cold  East  wind  had  shifted,  or  else  was  so  miti- 


142  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

gated  that  it  was  again  breathless  Summer.  Caryl  walked 
down  Langham  Place  and  turned  out  of  Regent  Street  into 
Conduit  Street,  emerging  eventually  in  Piccadilly,  below 
Burlington  House.  As  he  passed  Soloman's  a  lady  coming 
out  with  her  arms  full  of  flowers  tried  to  pass  and  reach  a 
victoria  standing  at  the  kerb.  Whence  ensued  that  distress- 
ing kind  of  impromptu  quadrille  wherein  each  person  tries  to 
pass  on  the  same  side  and  keeps  dancing  about  in  front  of  the 
other. 

"  Oh,  do  keep  still  a  moment !  "  said  the  lady  impatiently. 
And  then  "  Oh !  "  with  a  whole  feminine  vocabulary  con- 
densed in  the  one  word. 

"  How  are  you  ?  "  said  Caryl,  easily,  offering  his  hand  to 
the  great  bunch  of  lilies  and  roses  and  sweet  peonies  beneath 
which  Chiffon's  were  buried.  "  May  I  ask  if  you  have  a 
flower  show  on  to-day  ?  " 

"  No  !  it's  only  my  usual  bunch — but  I  do  like  to  buy  them 
myself  when  there  are  none  coming  up  from  the  country,  and 
one  gets  such  a  much  better  choice  early  in  the  day ! "  (It 
was  then  half-past  eleven.) 

"  Perhaps  I  may  be  permitted  to  help  to  stow  them  in  the 
carriage  for  you,"  said  Lexiter,  gently  trying  to  disengage  the 
fragrant  burden.     But  she  gave  a  little  cry  of  protest. 

"  No,  don't  do  that — get  in  and  take  them  from  me.  Then 
I  can  seat  myself  and  arrange  them,  the  dear  things  !  " 

He  did  as  suggested  without  further  explanation,  tucking 
his  long  legs  under  the  dust-rug  in  a  practised  manner  that 
showed  them  used  to  victorias.  Chiffon  stood  beside  the 
step,  her  face  half  buried  in  the  flowers,  her  eyes  looking 
over  them  at  his  manoeuvres.  When  he  turned  to  her  with 
outstretched  hands  he  met  her  glance  and  there  was  a 
momentary  pause. 

"Well?  "he  said  at  last. 

"  Take  them !  "  said  Chiffon,  filling  his  hands  with  her 
flowers  and  springing  into  her  seat.  "  I  didn't  say  you  were 
to  come  too ! "  she  added  in  the  same  breath. 

"Oh,  I  thought  you  did  !  "  he  returned  coolly.  "  Of  course 
if  you  didn't  I  can  get  out " — He  threw  the  rug  back  from 
his  knees. 

"It's  so  stupid  to  be  jumping  in  and  out  of  a  carriage — 
and  I  hate  people  to  pass  me !  "  Chiffon  said  discontentedly. 

The  rug  went  back  to  its  place,  and  Caryl  began  to  laugh. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  143 

"  The  Stores,  James ! "  said  Lady  Harbinger  with  a 
heightened  colour;  then  as  the  man  tucked  in  the  rug  and 
swung  himself  up  beside  the  coachman,  she  flashed  round  on 
Lexiter. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at  ?  " 

"  You ! "  he  retorted,  his  whole  face  the  handsomer  for  his 
smile.  "Teh!  tch  !  tch  !  what's  the  matter?  What  are  you 
in  a  rage  for  ?  "  The  big  masculine  hand  drew  the  rug  a 
little  higher  over  her  pretty  summer  gown,  and  slid  beneath 
it  to  her  lap.     "  How  are  you  after  last  night  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  hoarse  with  screaming !  What  a  noise  we  made  !  I 
was  ashamed  of  myself " 

"  I  wasn't !  " 

"  You  never  are ! "  The  blue  eyes  met  the  hazel-grey 
again,  and  fell  beneath  them.  "  Let  me  alone  !  "  said  Chiffon 
beneath  her  breath,  and  jerked  to  her  own  side  of  the 
carriage. 

"  You  don't  want  to  be  let  alone !  "  he  asserted  insolently, 
and  the  rug  moved  a  little,  undulated,  hinted  at  a  tale  it  did 
not  tell.  "Are  you  really  going  to  stop  at  the  Stores, 
Chiffon  ?  " 

"  Yes.     At  least  I  am  going  to  leave  an  order  there." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  this  morning  ?  You  are  in 
quite  a  naughty  little  temper." 

She  struggled  with  herself  for  an  instant,  turned  an  April 
face  to  him,  and  half  laughed  through  shining  tears. 

"  It  was  last  night — I  felt  hateful,  somehow.  Did  you  see 
the  way  that  Nougat  looked  at  us  all?  I  was  next  Ernie 
Blais  Heron — how  disgy  we  are  when  we  let  ourselves 
go!"  _ 

"  Did  you  let  yourself  go  ?  I  am  sorry  I  wasn't  next  to 
you.  I  should  like  to  see  you  let  yourself  go !  "  His  voice 
touched  her  as  materially  as  his  hand.  "  You  never  have  with 
me,  Chiffon!" 

"  And  I  never  shall !  "  she  said  quickly. 

"  I  think  you  could  be  coaxed ! "  he  said  audaciously. 
"  Was  this  all  that  made  you  cross  this  morning  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that  and — Nougat's  face  !  Nougat  cowes  me  some- 
times.    And — heaps  of  other  things." 

He  glanced  at  her  more  keenly  than  usual,  his  eyes  bright- 
ening with  a  kind  of  flash.  All  he  said,  however,  was : 
"  Don't  you  think  it's  very  hot  driving  in  the  sun  ?     I  shall 


144  AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

be  grilled  if  I  sit  in  Victoria  Street  waiting  for  you  without 
any  shade.     Shall  I  come  in  and  carry  the  parcels  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you  I  am  only  going  to  give  an  order !  I  shan't  be 
five  minutes,  and  I  hate  a  man  trotting  at  my  heels  when  I 
am  busy  in  shops." 

"  How  spoilt !  "  he  commented,  in  the  upbraiding  tone  of  a 
grown-up  person  speaking  to  a  very  naughty  child. 

"Well,  I  won't  have  you,  anyway.  Tell  the  coachman  to 
stand  in  the  shade  if  you  like — you  can  give  your  own 
orders  !  "  She  spoke  half  hastily,  half  recklessly,  as  she  got 
out  of  the  carriage  and  ran  up  the  broad  steps,  her  gown  up- 
lifted in  her  hand.  If  she  had  been  a  Duchess,  Chiffon 
would  never  have  learned  dignity.  She  loved  her  coronet, 
but  its  moral  balance  never  weighed  on  her  sufficiently  to 
hinder  her  flying  feet. 

When  she  came  back,  after  a  really  short  time — for  it  was 
too  hot  to  make  shopping  enjoyable,  and  perhaps  the  victoria 
held  a  greater  attraction — she  did  not  for  a  minute  recognise 
her  own  carriage,  and  stood  on  the  pavement  looking  back- 
wards and  forwards,  a  lost  expression  in  her  blue  eyes,  till 
recalled  by  Lexiter's  hearty  laugh  and  her  own  footman  touch- 
ing her  on  the  arm. 

"  Mr.  Lexiter  told  me  to  put  the  hood  up,  m'lady,"  he  said. 

"Oh  yes — quite  right.  It  will  be  cooler."  But  as  the 
carriage  drove  away  she  seized  Lexiter  by  the  arm  and  gave 
him  a  little  shake.  "  How  could  you  do  such  a  thing  ?  Don't 
laugh  at  me  like  that !  " 

"You  looked  so  utterly  bewildered.  I  never  saw  such  a 
strayed  baby  in  my  life.  I  expected  to  see  you  sit  down  on 
the  steps  of  the  Stores  and  cry  in  a  minute."  He  could 
hardly  speak  for  laughing.  "  Come,  isn't  this  much  nicer 
and  more  cosy  ?  "  he  said  softly,  shifting  his  position  a  little 
and  drawing  the  rug  more  carefully  around  her.  She  did  not 
answer,  save  to  say :  "  Where  are  we  going  ?  " 

"  You  told  me  to  give  my  own  directions,  so  I  ordered  your 
man  to  take  us  for  a  little  drive  out  towards  Battersea. 
Haven't  you  finished  your  shopping?" 

"  Yes ! " 

He  looked  out  swiftly  at  the  passing  traflfic  on  the  Albert 
Bridge  and  his  hand  tightened  where  it  rested.  "  It  isn't  clear 
enough  yet !  "  he  said. 

Chiffon  leaned  back  in  her  corner  with  a  little  gasp.   Some- 


AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN.  145 

thing  in  this  man's  voice  above  others  that  had  wooed  her 
frightened  while  it  held  her  captive.  Every  nerve  in  hei 
tingled  and  felt  as  if  charged  with  electric  fluid.  She  waited, 
she  did  not  know  for  what,  until  suddenly  in  the  desertion  of 
Battersea  Park,  he  slipped  his  arm  round  her  and  held  her 
closely. 

"  Now  tell  me  all  the  '  other  things  '  that  trouble  you  ! "  he 
said. 

"  There  will  be  no  yachting  for  us  this  year,  Caryl !  "  she 
whispered  in  troubled  tones.  "  I  had  a  message  from  Mr. 
Carberry  to  say  he  was  going  to  ask  us,  and  I  just  sounded 
Bobby  on  the  subject.  He  won't  go — he  is  determined  to 
have  a  house  party  for  the  shooting  at  our  own  place  in  the 
autumn,  and  then  to  go  to  Cairo  in  the  winter." 

"Why?  Has  he  any  special  reason?"  Lexiter  asked 
rapidly,  seeing  all  the  disaster  if  Bobby  even  fancied — Pooh ! 
He  had  been  too  careful.  A  lifetime  of  experience  has  its 
advantage  in  a  case  like  this.  Lexiter  touched  such  delicate 
situations  with  the  finesse  of  a  specialist. 

"  Oh  no !  "  She  spoke  with  shocked  haste,  as  if  to  reassure 
herself  as  much  as  him.  "  Only  he  is  as  obstinate  as  a  mule 
if  he  makes  up  his  mind,  that  is  all.  And  he  has  made  up 
his  mind  to  this  particular  programme."  She  shrugged  her 
small  shoulders  in  the  shadow  of  the  raised  hood  a  trifle 
cynically. 

"  Supposing  I  persuaded  Bobby  ?  No  good  ?  "  His  eyes 
smiled  lovingly  at  the  dear  little  profile  outlined  against  the 
dark  carriage,  and  his  lips  instinctively  moved  "  as  we  kiss  in 
the  air  whom  we  will."  Through  the  thin  muslin  of  her 
sleeve  she  could  feel  his  large  masculine  hand  warm  against 
her  sensitive  flesh,  his  fingers  clasping  her  arm  above  the 
elbow. 

"  It  might  only  make  him  think — things.  Besides,  you 
know  what  Mr.  Carberry's  conditions  are — he  told  me  last 
year  when  we  were  leaving  that  he  would  ask  me  again,  and 
anyone  I  liked,  to  meet  me,  on  condition  that  I  got  Lady 
D'Aulnoy  to  come  !  Oh !  how  I  hated  him  when  he  tried  to 
make  me  a  party  to  such  a  bargain !  I  wish  I  had  never 
listened." 

"  Does  she  guess  ?  " 

"I  don't  know.  I  don't  believe  she  would  look  at  him. 
That  is  why  he  tried  to  reach  her  through  me.     He  is  so 

10 


146  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

swollen  with  money  that  he  thinks  it  hardly  worth  while  to 
disguise  his  intentions,  and  from  the  way  he  spoke  of  it  to 
me— but  then  he  tells  the  most  brazen  lies !  " 

"  I  am  afraid  that  the  verb  To  Lie  is  the  most  applicable 
for  the  relations  of  women  with  men !  "  said  Lexiter  in  a 
parenthesis.  "  He  lies  to  her  in  the  first  instance ;  he  lies  for 
her,  ultimately ;  and  he  not  infrequently  lies  with " 

"  Caryl ! " 

"  Don't  be  shocked ;  I  was  only  inspired  by  the  thought  of 
Carberry — put  it  down  to  him.  Well,  if  we  cannot  make  use 
of  his  yacht,  we  must  contrive  something  else.  Meet  you  I 
must,  of  course.     Chiffon,  I  wish  it  were  safe  to  kiss  you !  " 

He  drew  her  closer  to  him  under  the  guard  of  the  rug,  and 
glanced  apprehensively  at  the  liveried  backs  of  the  servants. 
There  is  nothing  more  oblivious  in  appearance  than  the  back- 
view  of  a  well-trained  coachman  or  footman.  There  is  also 
no  one,  probably,  who  knows  more  by  keen  instinct  of  what 
is  going  on  behind  him.  Lexiter  knew  his  risk,  and  was  yet 
half  minded  to  take  it.  He  was  not  often  carried  away  by 
his  passions ;  he  had  probably  never  had  an  emotion  strong 
enough  to  be  its  own  excuse — certainly  none  in  which  he  had 
not  kept  a  guiding  hand  upon  the  reins  of  his  fancy.  There 
was  no  necessity  in  his  loves,  but  he  was  enough  of  a  man  to 
chafe  a  little  even  while  he  yielded  to  common  sense,  and 
decided  that  here  and  now  was  not  the  time  to  come  one 
inch  closer.  He  had  always  been  the  first  to  remember  how 
very  unpleasant  consequences  can  be,  and  he  had  always 
called  it  his  care  for  the  woman,  and  admired  his  own  for- 
bearance. Once  or  twice  in  his  experiences  the  woman  would 
have  forgiven  him  more  easily  for  less  prudence  and  more 
selfishness.  In  this  case — "  No,  it  isn't  safe,"  he  said,  and 
Chiffon  drew  away  with  a  humiliated  feeling  that  she  would 
not  have  minded  the  risk. 

"  By  Jove !  "  he  exclaimed  the  next  instant.  "  Lucky  I 
didn't — look  there  !  " 

"  Where  ?  "  Her  bewildered  eyes  blinked  at  the  sunshine, 
and  only  saw,  down  a  by-path,  two  vanishing  figures — a 
decorous  long  black  coat,  and  a  woman's  trailing  gown. 

Lexiter  laughed  with  huge  enjoyment. 

"  Mrs.  Blais  Heron  and  her  parson  !  Someone  beside  our- 
selves thought  the  old  cycle  track  might  be  fairly  deserted 
this  morning,  eh,  darling?    Battersea  is  a  great  place." 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  147 

"Was  it  really  Editha?  Did  she  see  us?" 
"  Don't  know,  I'm  sure — but  it  doesn't  matter  much.  We 
were  innocent  enough  in  appearance.  I  wonder  what  in- 
genious reason  she  gives  her  own  soul  for  this  tete-d-tete  in 
solitude  ?  There  is  much  fertile  excuse  in  religion !  "  His 
face  lit  up  with  the  most  cynical  entertainment,  and  he  was 
obviously  considering  Mrs.  Blais  Heron's  rather  than  his  own 
diversions.  "It  is  a  chance  she  did  not  bring  Valerie  as  a 
chaperon — she  has  often  done  that !  " 

"  Don't !  "  said  Chiffon  sharply.  "  I  can't  bear  to  think  of 
a  child  in  connection  with — well,  stolen  violets.  I  have  that 
much  grace  !  "  she  added  a  little  uneasily.  "  I  think  we  had 
better  turn  back — I  don't  want  to  come  face  to  face  with 
her." 

"  Where  are  you  lunching  ? "  he  asked  after  a  minute's 
thought. 

"With  Nougat." 

"  Send  a  note  to  her  to  say  you  can't,  and  come  out  with  me 
somewhere." 

"  But,  my  dear  Caryl — -the  servants !  How  am  I  to  get  rid 
of  the  carriage  ?  " 

"  Write  the  note  at  your  Club,  and  dismiss  them  there.  You 
can  drop  me  first,  and  I  will  meet  you  again  in  half  an  hour's 
time." 

"  Where  ?  "  She  turned  her  face  away  to  the  green  of  the 
Park,  but  she  had  not  said  no. 

"  At  the  end  of  Dover  Street,  or  I  will  come  to  the  Club  if 
you  like." 

"  Better  not — you  see  there  is  the  direction  to  the  cabman 
—of  course  I  don't  know  where  you  mean  to  lunch?"  she 
broke  off. 

"  Nor  do  I  yet !  "  said  Caryl  with  a  laugh  as  light  as  the 
lie.  "  Shall  we  have  the  hood  down,  going  home  ?  It  looks 
more  usual." 

"  I  thought  you  were  afraid  of  the  heat !  It  was  not  my 
suggestion." 

"  So  I  was — I  am  not  now.  I  think  on  the  whole  it's  stuffy 
having  it  up,  don't  you?"  He  looked  at  her  with  laughing 
eyes,  and  she  laughed  in  answer,  half  vexed  with  herself. 
Caryl  was  so  flagrant  in  his  manoeuvres,  and  so  inconsistent 
in  abandoning  them  when  he  saw  a  better  method !  But  she 
would  hardly  think  of  the  better  method  as  yet.     He  had  only 

10* 


148  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

asked  her  out  to  lunch,  and  she  felt  an  irresistible  inclination 
to  go,  though  it  might  be  foolish.  They  had  seen  so  little 
of  each  other  lately,  and  life  had  somehow  been  dull.  After 
all,  what  was  a  luncheon? 

"  I  hate  treating  Nougat  casually,"  she  remarked,  but  it 
was  her  only  protest,  and  at  the  bottom  of  St.  James's  Street 
she  dropped  him,  as  he  directed,  at  his  Club. 

"  It's  a  pity  those  two  are  friends,"  said  Lexiter  to  himself 
as  he  lifted  his  hat  to  the  vanishing  carriage.  "  It  makes 
it  almost  impossible  to  run  the  two  things  side  by  side  .... 
I  suppose  one  will  have  to  go — for  a  time,  at  least." 

He  did  not  despair  of  its  ultimate  resumption,  for  he  had 
had  experience  of  women's  friendships.  Until  he  was  actually 
bound  to  Nougat,  however,  even  by  an  engagement  ring,  the 
second  diversion  was  still  open  to  him.  On  entering  his 
Club  he  went  straight  to  the  telephone  office  and  rang  up  a 
certain  restaurant,  from  which  he  ordered  a  cold  luncheon 
to  await  him,  and — other  details.  Not  to  be  expected  meant 
inevitable  delay  and  the  clumsiness  of  explanation  while  a 
lady  waited.  Caryl  never  bungled  his  arrangements  in  such 
a  case;  it  was  part  of  his  definition  of  being  a  gentleman. 
Half  an  hour  after  entering  it  he  left  his  Club,  strolled  up 
St.  James's  Street,  crossed  Piccadilly,  and  nearly  ran  into 
Chiffon  again  at  the  comer  of  Dover  Street. 

"  That's  the  second  time  to-day !  "  he  said  with  extreme 
amusement.  "  You  certainly  have  designs  on  my  valuable 
life.     Hansom ! " 

Chiffon  looked  vaguely  round  her  as  she  got  into  the  cab, 
wondering  if  anyone  she  knew  happened  to  be  passing.  In 
the  middle  of  the  Season  she  could  hardly  have  dared  to 
have  done  this,  but  town  was  rather  empty,  and  it  is  a  curious 
fact  that  the  risk  of  recognition  in  London  is  less  than  on  a 
desert  island,  even  in  the  area  most  crowded  by  one's  ac- 
quaintance. She  was  busy  thinking  if  she  had  known  any  of 
the  faces  that  had  passed,  and  hardly  noticed  what  direction 
they  took ;  but  when,  after  a  short  drive,  they  stopped  in  a 
quiet  street,  she  looked  round  and  said  :  "  Where  are  we  ? '' 

"At  a  restaurant  I  know  of,  where  we  shan't  be  crowded 
or  stared  at,"  said  Lexiter  quietly,  "  Go  in  at  once  though, 
dear,  it's  never  necessary  to  stand  on  the  pavement !  " 

So  Chiff"on  drew  her  fluffy  white  boa  over  her  shoulders 
and  passed  through  the  glass  doors  into  the  restaurant.     The 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  i49 

place  looked  quiet  and  respectable  enough — rather  dowdy, 
she  thought — and  Lexiter  lingered  a  moment  and  spoke  to 
one  of  the  waiters. 

"We'll  lunch  upstairs;  it's  cooler,"  he  said,  and  Chiffon 
walked  leisurely  up  the  velvet  padded  steps  and  into  the  room 
he  indicated.  Even  then  it  did  not  occur  to  her  that  there 
was  a  special  privacy  about  this  luncheon,  and  she  sat  down 
to  the  table  and  pulled  off  her  gloves  laughing  and  talking 
merrily.  The  waiter  placed  the  dishes  on  the  table — it  was 
a  cold  luncheon — poured  out  the  champagne  and  looked  at 
Lexiter.  His  face  was  discretion  itself,  and  he  had  hardly 
seemed  to  glance  at  Chiffon. 

"  That  will  do — I'll  ring  if  I  want  anything,"  said  Lexiter 
quietly. 

"It's  much  nicer  not  having  any  servants  fussing  about, 
isn't  it?  "  said  Chiffon  amicably,  going  on  with  her  luncheon. 
It  struck  her  that  he  was  rather  silent  at  first,  but  after  a  few 
minutes  he  began  to  talk  again,  and  was  his  most  genial  self. 
She  found  him  a  charming  companion,  though  he  rarely  talked 
of  anything  but  mutual  acquaintances,  being  more  interested 
in  their  foibles  and  follies  than  the  noblest  things  of  the  outer 
world.  When  lunch  was  over  he  turned  to  Chiffon  with  his 
hand  on  the  bell. 

"  Will  you  have  any  coffee  ?  " 

"  Not  for  me,  thanks  !  " 

"  Liqueur  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I  should  like  a  cigarette." 

He  came  towards  her  as  if  to  offer  it,  then  suddenly  placed 
the  box  on  the  mantelshelf  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Don't  smoke  now.  Chiffon — this  is  so  much  nicer ! "  he 
said,  his  voice  dropped  to  a  wicked  whisper.  "  Take  your 
hat  off,  and  come  and  sit  down." 

She  freed  her  pretty  hair  from  the  gauze  and  flowers  and 
lace  of  her  hat,  and  did  as  he  mutely  suggested,  slipping  on 
to  his  knee  with  a  little  laugh  of  excitement,  and  allowing  him 
to  draw  her  head  down  to  his  shoulder. 

"  It  is  so  nice  to  be  properly  kissed  again ! "  she  said,  half 
laughing.  "  Why  doesn't  one's  husband  ever  seem  to  know 
how  ?  "  Her  fair  soft  face  lay  crushed  against  his,  her  head 
tilted  back  for  his  kisses,  her  eyes  wandering  aimlessly  about 
the  room.  Then  for  the  first  time  she  noticed  another  door 
beside  the  one  by  which  they  had  entered  and  the  waiter  had 


150  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

disappeared.  It  had  been  closed  during  luncheon  perhaps, 
and  the  draught  from  the  open  windows  had  swung  it  open. 
Through  the  aperture  it  left  she  saw  another  room,  not  a 
sitting-room  at  all — and  raising  herself,  suddenly  struggled 
free  of  his  arms. 

"  Where  have  you  brought  me  ?  "  she  said. 

He  rose  also,  stretching  out  his  arms  towards  her,  his  big 
frame  between  her  and  the  open  door,  blotting  out  the  betray- 
ing glimpse  beyond. 

"  Chiffon  !  "  he  said  coaxingly.  "  It  was  only  because  I 
knew  we  should  be  undisturbed  1  " 

But  she  shrank  from  him,  her  small  hot  hands  held  over 
the  frightened  blue  of  her  eyes. 

"  Oh  !  I  did  not  know  !  I  was  a  fool,  but  I  did  not  guess  !  " 
she  gasped.     "  No  ! — No  I — No  ! — you  mustn't  touch  me  1 " 

She  writhed  this  way  and  that  to  free  herself  from  the 
gentle  circle  of  his  arms — a  circle  he  allowed  her  to  break, 
but  which  always  closed  again,  until  he  laughed  at  her, 
irresistibly. 

"  Come,  darling !  don't  be  foolish ! "  he  said  remonstrat- 
ingly.  "  What  does  it  matter  ?  What  harm  have  I  done  you  ? 
No  one  recognised  us !  "  His  lips  were  half  stifled  in  the 
scented  masses  of  her  hair,  as  with  an  inconsistent  impulse 
she  turned  to  him  and  hid  her  face  against  his  heart. 

"  I'm  frightened,  Caryl !  " 

"  What  at?     What  is  my  pet  afraid  of  ? " 

"  If  Bobby  should  know  that  I  had  even  been " 

"  But  he  will  not — who's  to  tell  him  ?  And  why  should  we 
not  lunch  together  ?  " 

Still  the  caressing  arms  that  held  her — the  whisper  that 
soothed  her  fear.  She  did  not  know  that  she  had  yielded 
either  from  her  protest  or  in  actual  bodily  presence,  when  she 
found  herself  back  in  her  former  position,  her  head  against 
his  shoulder,  his  voice  tempting  her  to  linger  a  little  longer. 
The  fascination  of  excitement  was  as  strong  a  persuasion  as 
his  arms  perhaps,  the  craving  for  the  novel  thrill  of  passion 
that  even  a  good  woman  may  miss  in  the  man  who  is  her 
husband.  The  Eastern  nations,  recognising  this  fact,  have 
made  monogamy  a  scoff;  the  Western  have  made  it  rigid 
Law,  and  shut  their  eyes  to  its  infringement.  We  are  the 
victims  of  impulse  too,  at  our  most  excusable,  for  it  is  only 
vice  that  is  premeditated.     Good  resolutions  and  resistance 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  151 

of  temptation  passed  from   Chiffon  with   that  assurance   of 
Lexiter's  that  they  need  not  be  found  out — a  heavier  bribe 

still  to  a  woman  than  to  a  man Yet  she  had  had 

no  intention  of  this.     She  had  only  gone  out  that  morning  to 
buy  flowers. 

****** 

Not  until  Caryl  Lexiter  arrived  again  on  his  own  doorstep 
in  time  to  dress  for  dinner  did  he  remember  that  he  also  had 
had  an  object  when  he  left  the  house  that  day.  He  was  still 
oblivious  of  the  fact  that  he  had  told  Harris  he  should  be 
back  to  luncheon,  and  that  it  was  now  seven  o'clock,  but  per- 
haps the  sight  of  the  servant  who  admitted  him  recalled 
something  else  to  his  mind.  He  laughed  his  charming  spon- 
taneous laugh  that  made  his  grey  hairs  seem  a  mere  com- 
pliment to  his  handsome  face. 

"  By  Jove !  "  he  said,  "  and  I  went  out  to  buy  some  pocket- 
handkerchiefs  !  " 


152 


CHAPTER  X. 

"  Beneath  His  quiet  skies — His  quiet  skies  ! — 
We  shriek  and  die 
And  watch  the  morning  and  the  eve  go  by,' 
And  shudder  to  this  God  who  does  not  heed  our  cries.'/ 

We  could  bear  all  things  were  He  less  divine. 
He  does  not  care  ! 
He  set  us  in  this  coil  of  our  despair 
And  straight  withdrew  Himself,  and  gave  no  hint  of  His  design."  £^ 

Lower  London. 

As  Fate  had  said,  Phlumpie's  ideas  were  truly  vague  as  re- 
garded the  difference  between  a  sleeping  bed  and  a  garden 
bed,  and  he  found  flowers  as  good  to  lie  upon  as  feathers. 
He  was  in  the  midst  of  the  white  alyssum  now,  his  own  fur 
so  indistinguishable  from  the  delicate  petals  that  from  a 
distance  it  merely  looked  as  if  the  flowers  grew  in  a  thicker 
mass  in  the  centre  of  the  bed.  Twice  Mrs.  Leroy  had  taken 
him  up  and  shaken  him,  and  he  had  blinked  his  disgust 
with  his  pale,  gooseberry  eyes.  Then  she  had  kissed  him 
hard — a  process  he  disliked  far  more,  but  as  he  had  always 
trotted  back  to  his  improvised  couch  after  a  few  minutes 
of  injured  tail-lashing,  she  had  given  it  up,  and  was  strolling 
up  and  down  the  garden  path  with  Mrs.  Carr,  talking  about 
the  future  of  the  boy  whom  Vaughan  condemned  for  not 
wishing  to  be  a  pirate. 

"  You  see,  next  year  we  ought  to  think  of  getting  a  nomina- 
tion— they  go  into  the  Navy  so  early  now,"  she  said,  with 
her  great  mother-eyes  full  of  anxiety.  "I  don't  like  this 
new  system — it  takes  them  away  from  you  so  early ! " 

"  What  will  you  do  when  he  goes  on  his  first  voyage  ? " 
said  Fate  teasingly.     "Three  years,  isn't  it?" 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  153 

"Yes — I  know.  It's  so  dreadful  I  won't  think  of  it. 
Three  years  without  Teddy !  "  The  pretty  voice  shook,  and 
the  long  lashes  fell  hastily  to  hide  her  traitorous  eyes.  "  I 
wonder  how  far  a  woman's  influence  will  reach,  and  how 
long  it  lasts — on  the  other  side  of  the  World !  Teddy  and  I 
are  such  close  friends  now.  But  of  course  he  must  grow 
away  from  me." 

"Never  mind,"  said  Fate,  snatching  at  the  first  foolish 
comfort  she  could  invent,  "think  how  proud  you  will  be  of 
him  in  his  uniform ! " 

"He  isn't  there  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Carr,  laughing  at  herself 
a  little.  "Unfortunately  neither  Richard  nor  I  can  think  of 
anyone  with  a  nomination." 

"  I  wonder  if  we  know  anyone !  "  said  Fate,  wrinkling  her 
expressive  eyebrows.  "  It  seems  one  of  life's  ironies  that 
the  women  who  are  willing  to  give  up  their  sons  to  the 
Empire  should  so  frequently  be  stopped  by  a  piece  of  red 
tape !  One  hears  of  the  diflaculty  of  getting  boys  for  the 
Navy;  but  I  think  the  difficulty  lies  in  getting  the  Navy  to 
take  them !  " 

"  Well,  you  see,  we  do  not  happen  to  have  any  connections 
in  the  Service,  alive.  One's  connections  always  die  when 
they  would  be  useful,  don't  they?  It  is  only  those  with 
whom  one  could  do  without  who  seem  to  propagate  and 
increase  daily.  People  in  our  position  who  want  their  sons 
to  join  the  Service  have  endless  trouble." 

"Yes.     Won't  it   be  rather  expensive  altogether?" 

"Oh,  we  could  not  afford  it  if  we  had  more  than  one 
son  to  start  in  the  world,  or  were  not  helped.  But  Teddy 
is  the  only  boy,,  you  see,  and  Richard  has  some  relations 
who  are  very  well  off  and  undertook  to  make  him  an  allow- 
ance. He  is  so  bent  on  being  a  sailor!  He  has  always 
known  what  he  wanted  since  the  time  when  he  was  quite  a 
little  chap." 

"  I  will  tell  Gerald  that !  "  thought  Fate  with  mental  amuse- 
ment. "  His  view  of  Teddy,  and  Teddy's  doting  mother's, 
seem  to  differ  I  "  Aloud  she  said  rather  drily,  "  My  husband 
wanted  to  be  a  sailor,  all  his  heart  was  bound  up  in  it; 
but  there  was  no  money  to  help  him,  and  so  it  had  to  be 
given  up,  and  the  country  lost  a  good  man,  in  all  probability. 
It  is  rather  pitiful,  isn't  it?" 

"  One  feels  that  the  system  must  be  wrong  somewhere. 


154  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

i  always  wondered  that  Mr.  Leroy  did  not  go  to  sea.  He 
fills  me  with  awe  now  when  I  hear  him  talk  about  boats! 
I  don't  believe  there  is  anything  he  does  not  know  about 
them.  Teddy  stands  with  worship  in  his  eyes  as  long  as 
he  will  rig  his  ships  for  him." 

•'  Yes,"  said  Fate  briefly.  The  vague  resentment  she 
always  felt  with  Providence  if  Eldred  could  not  have  his  way 
made  her  swing  her  gown  half  impatiently  over  the  pansy 
border.  She  could  bear  disappointment  for  herself — that 
was  nothing.  But  even  to  think  of  her  husband's  youth  being 
thwarted  made  her  angry,  though  she  had  not  shared  in  it. 
Fate  was  feminine  and  inconsistent.  She  would  have  found 
some  virtue  in  another  man's  being  denied  his  heart's  desire 
and  the  consequent  development  of  his  character  through  a 
fight  with  circumstances.  Even  in  Gerald  Vaughan's  case 
her  sympathy  was  tempered  by  a  conviction  that  he  was  the 
better  man  for  his  drawbacks.  But  for  Eldred  she  had  no 
such  consolation.  She  would  have  given  Eldred  the 
universe  to  play  with  had  she  had  the  power,  and  denied 
that  the  personality  she  loved  could  in  any  way  be  injured 
by  indulgence. 

"  It  is  nearly  five  o'clock,  and  I  know  you  are  dying  for 
me  to  go!  "  said  Mrs.  Carr  at  last,  as  they  paused  in  their 
desultory  saunter  just  beside  Phlumpie  in  the  flowers.  "  I 
can  see  the  clock  in  your  eyes !  Are  you  going  to  the 
station  ?  " 

"  No,  not  to-day.  Eldred  is  coming  down  early,  and 
going  to  see  a  man  on  business  at  Urden.  He  left  his 
bicycle  at  the  Junction  this  morning,  and  will  ride  from 
there." 

"He  will  have  a  lovely  spin!"  said  Mrs.  Carr,  looking  at 
the  liquid  sky  and  the  coming  sunset  that  as  yet  hardly 
reddened  above  the  pear  trees.  "  Do  look  at  your  cat !  He 
will  ruin  your  garden." 

"  I  have  driven  him  off  twice  this  afternoon,"  said  Fate, 
stooping  to  pick  up  the  sleeping  white  beauty.  "  He  is  so 
cross  with  me  now  that  he  will  hardly  speak  to  me.  Oh! 
man!  man!  what  shall  I  do  with  you?  I  think  I  will  have 
you  skinned  to  wear  round  my  neck  in  winter  as  a  punish- 
ment !  " 

"He  would  make  a  beautiful  tie!  "  said  Mrs.  Carr,  laugh- 
ing, as  they  walked  down  to  the  gate,  Phlumpie  lounging 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  155 

over  his  mistress's  shoulder  like  a  sulky  baby.  Mrs.  Leroy 
rarely  used  his  real  name,  and  he  was  as  accustomed  to 
being  called  "  Kitten-man "  or  "  man "  as  anything  else. 
The  origin  of  "  Phlumpie "  she  usually  explained  in  this 
wise,  and  quite  seriously,  to  bewildered  strangers : 

•'  We  used  to  say  that  he  was  a  little  white  elephant  when 
he  was  a  kitten,  he  was  so  lumpy.  But  of  course  at  that 
age  he  could  not  pronounce  the  word  '  elephant,'  and  he  called 
himself  an  'elephlump!     So   it  got  to  Phlumpie  in  time." 

If  it  happened  to  be  a  "  Cat-woman  "  to  whom  this  explana- 
tion was  offered,  she  invariably  went  away  saying  to  herself 
that  it  was  such  a  pity  that  dear  Mrs.  Leroy  had  no  children ! 
She  was  cut  out  for  a  mother.  Why,  she  talked  of  that 
stupid  cat  just  as  if  he  were  a  baby !  And  Fate  and  Eldred, 
when  such  opinions  filtered  round  to  them,  laughed. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Mrs.  Carr,  absently,  rubbing  the  cat 
behind  his  ear,  "  how  beautiful  Miss  Mornington  looked  at 
Ashingham  on  Thursday !  Saydie  and  I  were  quite  struck. 
We  could  not  take  our  eyes  off  her." 

"  She  is  always  beautiful,"  said  Fate  with  cordial  enjoyment 
of  Patricia's  memory.  "I  have  not  seen  her  for  some  days 
now,  and  I  feel  quite  hungry  for  the  sight  of  her.  She 
generally  motors  down  twice  in  the  week." 

"  She  must  be  rolling  in  money !  "  said  Mrs.  Carr,  with  a 
little  sigh  for  Teddy — not  for  herself.  "  Mr.  Mornington 
is  the  'Wheelwright,'  isn't  he?  Richard  knows  all  about 
his  patent — cart  wheels,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  Something  to  do  with  them,  I  believe.  Men  always 
understand  these  things — I  don't.  I  am  rather  interested  in 
Mr.  Mornington,  personally,  but  Patricia  lives  a  life  estranged 
from  her  people." 

"  Poor  dear  !  "  said  Mrs.  Carr  kindly.  "  How  I  should  hate 
a  household  divided  against  itself.  And  she  is  such  an  attrac- 
tive woman  to  my  mind,  she  seems  somehow  to  merit  a 
happy  home.     What  does  Mr.  Vaughan  think  of  her  ?  " 

"  He  is  as  perverse  as  usual,  and  declines  to  admire  her! " 
laughed  Fate  as  Mrs.  Carr  departed.  There  was  a  sudden 
very  faint  colour  in  her  cheeks  that  irritated  herself.  She 
felt  them  warm  with  something  else  than  the  sunset:  the 
memory  of  a  pretty,  irregular  room,  a  man's  peculiar  voice, 
a  regretful  sentence — "  I  have  never  had  what  I  wanted !  " 
There  was  no   least  thought  of  disloyalty   in  Fate  Leroy's 


156  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

heart,  nothing  that  she  would  not  have  told  her  husband, 
but  the  womanhood  in  her  asserted  its  attribute  of  pity;  for 
a  moment  she  wished  perhaps  that  she  had  two  personalities — 
an  extra  self  to  bestow  elsewhere.  The  thought  had  never 
definitely  shaped  itself  in  her  mind  before,  though  she  had 
known  in  every  secret  nerve  that  she  was  set  apart  in 
Vaughan's  mind  as  in  her  husband's — a  creature  desirable 
above  all  others.  Her  face  was  rather  absorbed  with  this 
inward  thought  as  she  went  slowly  back  to  the  house  and  in 
at  the  open  front  door,  Phlumpie  fallen  asleep  in  her  arms 
as  one  resigned  to  malignant  fortune.  The  prettiness  of  her 
life  struck  her  afresh  as  she  came  in,  and  she  remembered 
with  innocent  satisfaction  that  to  make  his  surroundings 
bearable  to  his  irritable  taste  Gerald  had  to  wage  perpetual 
war  against  his  sister's  antagonistic  personality.  She  knew 
that  her  own  prejudice  suited  with  his  to  perfection,  she  had 
seen  the  approval  and  displeasure  in  his  quick  cold  eyes  times 
out  of  number  when  he  came  into  her  rooms,  or  was  made 
aware  of  some  new  development  in  her  household  arrange- 
ments. Yes,  she  could  have  managed  Gerald  Vaughan,  and 
made  him  satisfied,  with  as  exquisite  an  eese  as  she  did  her 
husband — though  certainly  with  less  inclination.  Gerald 
would  have  been  the  second  best  to  Fate  Leroy,  but  he  was 
second,  though  to  the  immeasurable  preference  of  Eldred. 

She  dropped  Phlumpie  gently  among  the  sofa  cushions 
in  the  drawing-room,  and  put  a  vase  of  garden  poppies  at 
another  angle  on  the  mantelshelf.  Their  blood-like  crimson 
stood  out  anew  against  the  dull  green  of  her  walls,  and  she 
stood  still  idly  enjoying  it.  Colour  was  almost  a  passion 
with  Fate,  but  she  enjoyed  all  the  little  details  of  her 
married  life  with  the  full  sweet  joy  of  a  woman  who  appre- 
ciated her  own  happiness.  She  had  her  thorns  among  the 
roses,  of  course,  little  pin  pricks  that  Eldred  shared  with  her; 
but  upon  the  whole  life  was  a  comedy  rather  than  a  drama. 
It  might  be  humdrum  to  a  looker-on,  but  she  found  ex- 
quisite humour,  subtle  experience,  and  infinite  situations,  to 
make  it  absorbing  to  herself.  She  was  rejoicing  in  the  poppy 
against  the  wall  at  the  present  moment,  for  it  made  one 
detail  in  the  background  of  her  stage,  while  she  played  the 
principal  rdle  of  the  piece.  This  was  all  her  setting,  and 
so  of  value  to  her,  too. 

And   even   then   tragedy  came   stalking   towards   her  on 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  157 

grim  feet,  bringing  the  realisation  of  the  depths  of  the  worid, 
and  breaking  in  on  the  monotonous  music  of  her  existence 
with  the  roll  of  muffled  drums. 

A  carriage-clock  on  the  mantelpiece  struck  half-past  five, 
and  she  turned  and  glanced  at  the  door  with  a  half  resentful 
feeling  that  she  had  lost  half  an  hour  of  her  usual  time 
with  her  husband.  She  had  hardly  expected  him  yet,  but 
she  wished  he  would  come  home.  It  was  too  early  to  dress 
for  dinner,  and  she  had  no  inclination  to  settle  to  anything 
with  half  her  senses  waiting  at  the  gate.  So  she  went 
upstairs  to  her  bedroom,  and  loitered  about  among  her  most 
cherished  possessions  as  women  will,  wondering  a  little 
leisurely  whether  her  whole  energies  would  have  been 
absorbed  in  her  son  if  she  had  had  one,  as  Mrs.  Carr's  in 
Teddy.  She  thought  not — hoped  not,  indeed ;  for  to  Fate 
the  woman  whose  life  was  absorbed  in  her  husband  was  a 
higher  product  of  civilisation  than  the  "Cat-woman,"  whose 
maternal  instincts  were  stronger  than  any  others.  "  Any 
cat  will  lick  its  kittens!"  she  had  said,  but  what  cat  cares 
for  the  Tom  who  fathers  them?  Had  humanity  gone  no 
further  than  that  ?  Perhaps  she  held  herself  a  trifle  superior 
in  preferring  Eldred  to  all  extended  affections,  and  at  least 
had  given  fewer  hostages  to  fortune  than  Mrs.  Carr,  shivering 
now  at  the  thought  of  parting  with  her  boy  and  what  the 
world  might  make  of  him. 

There  was  a  portrait  of  Eldred  on  the  mantelshelf,  taken 
in  his  schooldays,  and  long  before  she  met  him — Eldred  in 
a  turned-down  collar,  with  the  quick  intelligence  of  his  face 
only  in  embrj'o  and  the  sweet  firm  mouth  so  pretty  that  a 
woman  longed  to  kiss  him.  Fate  Leroy  leaned  her  elbows 
on  the  mantelshelf  and  her  chin  in  her  hands  and  looked 
with  grave  grey  eyes  at  the  child  face  she  had  not  known 
in  the  father,  and  would  not  know  in  the  son.  A  dear  laddie, 
so  ready  for  life  and  so  full  of  vitality  even  then !  Just 
Eldred,  even  now.  Well,  she  would  not  part  with  Eldred's 
present  for  the  sake  of  Eldred's  past,  or  even  the  hope  of 
another  Eldred  in  the  future. 

"  And  then  he  would  be  sure  to  have  my  nose,"  said  Fate, 
half  aloud,  and  wrinkling  up  the  offending  member  distaste- 
fully. "  And  it  is  bad  enough  in  me — it  would  be  so  hateful 
in  a  man!  If  I  could  choose  its  features — well,  perhaps 
tfien,  yes!      But  I  should  be  dreadfully  particular  over  my 


158  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

baby!  If  I  didn't  like  it  I  should  want  to  send  it  back- 
after  all  one  sends  other  property  back  to  the  place  from 
which  one  ordered  it,  if  it  is  wrong.  Let  me  see,  Eldred's 
mouth — such  a  beautiful  mouth !  "  (She  glanced  at  the  boy's 
face  in  the  picture.)  "And  Eldred's  nose  before  all  things. 
But  my  height  and  build,  I  think,  because  all  my  men  folk 
are  tall.  Eldred's  hair  and  my  eyes — no,  Eldred's  eyes, 
because  I  can't  bear  to  part  with  them.  I  always  like  blue 
eyes  better  than  grey.  And  Eldred's  voice  to  sing  with— 
why !  it  is  all  Eldred !  " 

A  clock  somewhere  in  the  house  struck  six. 

"  It  would  be  sure  to  be  like  me,  and  I  should  hate  it !  " 
said  Mrs.  Leroy,  turning  away  from  the  mantelshelf  and 
the  contemplation  of  a  dream  child  together.  "Things  are 
much  better  as  they  are — just  he  and  I  together.  We  are 
quite  content !  "  She  strolled  to  the  open  window  and  leaned 
out  to  the  warm  dying  day.  "  I  think  he  is  rather  late,  and 
he  might  have  made  more  haste  home  to  his  Babs !  There 
will  be  no  time  to  talk  before  dinner." 

Down  the  road,  under  the  arching  trees,  she  caught  a 
sound  of  approaching  feet.  It  was  not  the  single  step  she 
waited  for,  but  the  approach  of  several  people,  two  or  three 
men  walking  abreast  she  thought,  for  the  pace  was  deliberate 
and  heavy,  as  if  they  kept  step.  She  waited  she  hardly 
knew  for  what — just  to  see  them  come  into  view  perhaps,  and 
satisfy  a  vague  curiosity  as  to  why  they  marched  so  slowly 
together.  Her  eyes,  idly  resting  on  the  first  break  in  the 
green  where  they  must  appear,  saw  three  small  boys  half 
running,  half  pausing  to  look  back  over  their  shoulders,  then 
a  woman  hurrying  side  by  side  with  a  man,  but  looking  back 
also.  Then  there  was  something  coming!  She  knew  the 
incompatible  units  that  form  a  Suburban  crowd,  and  was  not 
surprised  to  see  a  well-dressed  man  pacing  next,  walking 
indeed  on  the  footpath;  but,  hardly  glancing  at  him,  her 
eyes  rested,  with  the  anxiety  that  even  an  alien  interest  will 
bring  if  delayed,  upon  the  real  centre  of  this  passing  ex- 
citement. It  came  into  view  almost  before  she  knew  it 
was  there,  a  litter  borne  by  three  or  four  men,  with  a 
muffled  shrouded  object  lying  on  it,  and  which,  turning  aside 
without    warning    or    premonition,    came    in    at    her    own 

£ate 

The  shock  of  such  a  thing  ai;  anv  moraeBrt:  .of  ordinary 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  159 

peaceful  day,  the  crash  and  jar  of  accident  or  death  or  pain 
coming  suddenly  upon  her  easy  level  existence,  had  hardly 
time  to  make  itself  felt  in  her  before  she  was  out  of  her 
room  and  running  swiftly  down  the  stairs.  Her  brain  was 
numbed  with  horror  and  fear,  but  it  did  not  seem  to  affect 
her  mechanical  motion.  Her  feet,  indeed,  acted  without 
guidance  on  her  part.  Whatever  this  was  that  was  coming 
to  her,  she  must  go  to  meet  it.  Stranger  or  friend,  she  tore 
down  the  staircase  and  across  the  hall  to  him,  thrusting 
aside  a  startled  servant  who  had  appeared  at  the  same 
minute,  with  a  flying  order  as  she  passed. 

"  Run  across  the  road  and  fetch  Mr.  Murray." 

It  seemed  a  mechanical  order  also,  for  she  had  not  paused 
to  think  that  the  surgeon  living  opposite  was  not  their  own 
doctor,  she  only  knew  that  he  was  nearest,  and  there  might 
be  no  medical  aid  amongst  the  loose,  advancing  crowd.  She 
met  the  procession  half  way  up  the  little  drive,  and  was 
stopped  by  the  gentleman — a  stranger — whom  she  had  seen 
from  her  window  walking  on  the  footpath. 

"  He  is  not  dead ! — we  do  not  know  what  injuries 
yet " 

The  tone  of  intended  assurance  told  her  what  even  her 
heart  had  not  permitted  itself  to  fear.  With  a  sudden  rush 
of  calmness  all  over  her  that  braced  her  limbs  like  a  douche 
of  cold  water,  she  turned  and  fell  into  walking  pace  by  the 
side  of  the  improvised  litter,  laying  one  small  white  hand 
on  it  gently,  as  if  it  brought  her  nearer  to  that  unconscious, 
unresponsive  form.  The  only  thing  she  seemed  to  realise 
as  she  looked  with  shrinking  at  the  set,  bloodless  face,  was 
that  Eldred  was  very  far  away;  he  looked  as  he  would  look 
when  dead,  and  she  flinched  at  her  own  loneliness. 

Inside  the  house  she  was  conscious  again  of  a  working 
brain  that  would  give  orders.  She  learned  the  outlines  of 
the  disaster  and  knew  all  that  they  knew — a  runaway  horse, 
an  accident  that  overturned  the  bicycle  and  crushed  the 
rider — how  badly  they  could  not  tell.  It  had  all  happened 
not  half  a  mile  away,  on  the  Sunnington  Road,  and  a  passing 
tradesman  had  recognised  him  and  told  the  crowd  that 
gathered,  and  so  they  had  brought  him  home.  The  unknown 
man  whom  she  unconsciously  appealed  to  as  of  her  own 
class,  went  and  dispersed  the  stragglers  lingering  at  the  gate, 
and   feed   the  men  who  had  carried   the  litter.     When  he 


i6o  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

came  back  the  surgeon  was  with  him,  and  they  made  a 
hurried  examination. 

"  Take  him  upstairs,"  the  doctor  said  quietly.  "  It  can 
do  no  harm,  and  it  will  be  easier  to  nurse  him  should  we 
have  to  operate.  If  he  recovers  it  may  be  a  long  busi- 
ness." 

So  they  carried  him  up,  to  the  pretty  airy  room  where 
half  an  hour  before  Fate  Leroy  had  been  musing  before  the 
boyish  photograph  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  laid  him  on  the 
bed,  a  helpless  broken  thing  that  might  die  now  unconscious 
of  the  world  moving  around  him,  or  might  crawl  back  to 
life  again. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  if  he  will  get  over  it — there  is  injury 
to  the  head,  and  I  think  there  may  be  cerebral  haemorrhage 
under  the  skull,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  standing  before  the  wife 
of  the  man  who  was  so  far  away  from  them  all.  He  knew 
Mrs.  Leroy  by  sight  with  the  admiration  that  all  the  Suburb 
gave  her,  but  he  had  never  spoken  to  her  face  to  face  before. 
She  seemed  to  him  a  singularly  tall  fair  woman  at  close 
quarters,  with  a  well-poised  head,  and  a  soft  womanly  face 
by  no  means  broken  by  tears.  She  had  waited  with  perfect 
self-control  and  patience  for  his  examination  and  report,  as 
if  there  were  no  time  to  think  of  herself  as  yet,  but  he  answered 
the  grey  eyes  facing  him  rather  than  the  fine  red  lips. 

"  I  do  not  know  if  he  will  get  over  it — he  may.  I  must 
tell  you  that  he  may  die  during  the  night,  or  he  may  linger 
and  recover.  There  are  no  internal  complications  as  far  as 
I  can  ascertain." 

"It  is  the  injury  to  his  head  you  fear?" 

"Yes.  He  has,  I  think,  ruptured  a  blood  vessel.  He 
was  probably  not  so  utterly  unconscious  at  first  as  he  is  now, 
and  he  may  become  completely  comatose.  In  that  case  it 
might  be  necessary  to  operate." 

"Will  you  send  me  a  nurse?"  said  Fate  composedly. 

"  I  will  send  you  a  male  nurse — it  is  a  greater  expense, 
but  no  woman  can  move  him  as  I  wish  him  moved.  I  am 
going  now  to  telegraph  to  an  Institution  known  to  me.  I 
shall  come  back  in  half  an  hour.  Can  I  send  a  wire  for 
you  ?  " 

"Yes.  I  ought  to  let  his  people  know,"  said  Fate,  stand- 
ing on  one  side  of  the  bed  and  looking  down  on  the  helpless 
absent  face.     How  far  away  he  was !     The  doctor's  statement 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  i6i 

that  he  might  sink  more  and  more  into  unconsciousness 
seemed  to  strike  a  knell  in  her  heart — all  the  rest  of  his 
diagnosis  was  not  so  terrible  as  that.  She  took  the  pocket- 
book  he  offered  her  without  moving  away  from  the  bed, 
and  wrote  her  message,  and  when  he  was  gone  she  sat  down 
quietly  and  began  her  watch,  only  moving  from  the  bedside 
to  do  some  office  in  the  sick  room. 

It  did  not  seem  to  her  long  before  the  surgeon  was  back, 
and  yet  she  had  had  time  to  review  her  whole  life,  past, 
present  and  to  come,  and  to  analyse  her  emotions,  it  seemed 
to  her,  with  a  dull  curiosity. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  things  you  always  said  to  yourself  that 
you  could  not  bear,"  she  reminded  her  irmer  consciousness. 
"  You  have  never  even  tried  to  imagine  anything  happening 
to  you  apart  from  Eldred,   because  you  thought  you  could 
not  face  it.     Yet  here  it  is,  happening,  and  it  is  quite  bear- 
able.    You  are  not   breaking  down — you  are  not  dying  of 
the  mental  pain,  yourself.     You  know  that  you  will  face  it, 
and  go  on,  even  perhaps  beyond  it  ...  .  only  life  would 
never  be  the  same  again,  if  this  ended — like  that."      She 
glanced  at  the  absent  face  on  the  pillow,  the  body  from  which 
all  consciousness  of  her  had  fled.     At  the  present  moment 
he  was  as  dead  to  her  as  if  she  had  heard  the  mould  fall  on 
his  coffin.     Only  he  still  breathed,  and  was  warm,  and  not 
irrevocably  out  of  reach.     "  Is  that  why  I  am  so  unmoved?" 
she  thought  half  desperately,  frightened  at  her  own  calmness. 
"  Or  am  I  a  person  who  has  no  very  deep  feelings  ?     I  have 
heard  of  people  dying  of  grief — of  women  who  said  that  there 
were  things  they  could  not  face.     I  can  face  this  because  I 
have  done  so,  it  seems.     Perhaps  if  he  were  really  dead  I 

should  realise  it  more " 

One  of  Eldred's  hands  was  lying  beside  her,  palm  upwards, 
on  the  cool  white  sheet,  the  fingers  half  closed,  as  he  had 
a  trick  of  keeping  them  even  when  at  rest;  it  seemed  as  if 
his  hands  would  not  lie  quite  straight  like  other  people's, 
perhaps  from  all  the  rowing  and  sculling  and  rough  work 
that  he  had  done  of  choice  on  board  ship.  Fingers  used  to 
gripping  hemp  and  wood  gain  a  stiff  facility  to  close  rather 
than  open.  Before  his  marriage  Eldred  had  always  spent 
his  holidays  boating.  She  slipped  her  own  small  hand  into 
his  with  a  desire  to  feel  him  nearer  and  less  oblivious.  The 
fingers  lay  under  her  own,  unresponsive,  but  for  the  moment 

II 


i62  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

it  comforted  her  that  she  still  had  him,  and  could  touch 
him. 

By  and  by  the  surgeon  returned,  and  told  her  what  he 
had  done.  The  nurse  would  come  down  at  once,  he  said, 
and  if  she  found  she  wanted  another  he  could  come  the  next 
day.  It  was  then  eight  o'clock.  He  himself  would  return 
before  midnight,  unless  she  sent  for  him  earlier.  There  was 
nothing  more  to  do  but  watch,  and  follow  his  directions. 
No  alteration  was  likely  to  take  place  at  present.  Would 
Mrs.  Leroy  like  another  opinion? 

"Did  he  advise  it?"  Fate  said  thoughtfully,  the  habit  of 
limiting  their  expenditure  even  then  holding  her  in  check. 

"Yes." 

"  Then  please  send  for  whoever  you  think  best.  Our  own 
doctor  is  Dr.  Hare." 

"  I  will  go  round  and  see  him  to-night — ^he  will  know  your 
husband's  constitution  better  than  anyone.  And  I  will  tele- 
graph for  the  best  man  I  know  of  in  London." 

Something  in  the  reassuring  energy  of  the  man,  and  his 
simple,  untiring  work  in  her  service,  reached  Fate  as  nothing 
else  had  done  as  yet.  She  drew  her  breath  for  a  minute 
before  she  answered. 

"  If  you  will  watch  by  the  bed  for  a  minute  I  want  to  give 
the  servants  a  few  orders.     I  shall  only  go  to  the  door." 

He  nodded  and  took  her  vacant  place,  while  she  told  the 
housemaid  to  cut  her  a  plate  of  sandwiches  and  to  bring 
them  up  to  her  as  soon  as  possible.  She  wanted  nothing 
else,  but  she  would  have  some  coflfee.  For  the  rest,  the 
dinner-table  was  to  be  cleared,  and  the  house  shut  up  as 
usual.     They  need  not  sit  up. 

"  If  you  want  me,  ma'am,  I  sleep  lighter  than  cook  or 
Reynolds,"  said  the  housemaid  jealously. 

"  Thank  you,  Alice,  I  will  call  you  if  I  do.  You  had 
better  sleep  in  the  spare  room  and  leave  the  door  open." 

The  girl  departed,  satisfied  that  she  was  to  be  only  across 
the  passage,  and  Fate  went  back  to  the  bedside,  marvelling 
a  little.  She  had  hardly  realised  the  devotion  of  her  own 
servants;  it  touched  her  as  the  doctor's  kindness  had  done. 
She  sat  down  in  her  former  place,  releasing  Mr.  Murray,  and 
turned  her  grave  eyes  upon  her  husband,  and  the  surgeon 
left  her  there,  a  vision  of  an  utterly  quiescent  figure,  a  fair 
face,  the  brown  hair  brushed  cleanly  back  from  the  brows, 


AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN.  163 

but  so  softly  that  it  rose  with  a  little  spring  from  her  head, 
and  two  grey  eyes  absorbed  in  the  man  who  was  not  con- 
scious of  her.  She  was  so  young  a  woman,  and  so  goodly 
to  look  at,  that  her  utter  silence  and  the  patience  of  her 
attitude  impressed  him  as  rather  awful. 

She  sat  there  for  hour  after  hour,  her  hands  on  her  knee, 
her  watch  never  broken  save  to  fulfil  the  doctor's  orders. 
At  half-past  eleven  the  male  nurse  arrived,  looked  at  the 
patient,  and  had  a  short  conversation  with  Mrs.  Leroy.  It 
all  seemed  so  quiet  and  orderly  that  she  hardly  felt  any 
strain.  Should  he  relieve  her  now,  he  said?  No?  Then 
he  would  just  wait  up  and  see  Mr.  Murray,  and  then  go  to 
bed.  He  would  come  in  to  her  at  eight,  and  she  must  get 
some  rest.  She  thanked  him,  told  the  housemaid  to  show 
him  his  room  and  attend  to  him,  and  sat  down  by  the  bed 
again. 

By  and  by  all  sounds  in  the  house  ceased,  and  the  weight 
of  the  night  seemed  a  material  thing  laid  upon  her  in  the 
element  of  the  silence.  A  passing  footstep  in  the  road,  or 
a  clock  striking  in  the  house,  were  all  that  punctuated  her 
vigil.  She  sat  by  the  bedside,  her  stedfast  grey  eyes  resting 
on  that  unresponsive  face  that  was  her  husband's — that  had 
been  his  some  hours  ago,  as  she  knew  it — and  it  seemed  a 
terrible  thing  to  her  to  be  young.  The  loneliness  was  the 
only  sense  of  pain  that  reached  her  as  yet,  and  this  might 
go  on  for  so  many,  many  years — if  he  died.  She  could 
hardly  picture  him  as  alive  now,  seeing  his  face  upon  the 
pillow,  its  intelligence  closed  to  her,  the  soul  as  absent  as 
if  the  thing  that  appalled  her  simply  from  its  desolation  had 
really  happened.  She  realised  then  how  secondary  a  place 
the  material  side  of  life  had  had  in  her  love  for  him,  because 
though  she  still  tended  and  treasured  his  breathing  body  it 
was  but  as  the  home  of  the  soul  that  had  seemed  to  belong 
to  her.  Mind  in  mind,  heart  in  heart,  they  had  been  locked 
closer  every  day,  until  they  seemed  as  indissoluble  as  her 
own  brain  from  her  physical  being.  No  least  thing  in  her 
daily  life  had  been  more  trivial  to  Eldred  than  to  her,  in  so 
far  as  it  had  affected  her.  She  had  told  him — albeit  laugh- 
ingly — of  her  troubles  with  the  sweep,  and  had  made 
domestic  difficulties  a  little  diverting  tale  for  his  ears,  to  dis 
tract  him  from  the  routine  of  office  and  city.  In  return  she 
had  drawn  the  ethics  of  the  day  from  him,  and  they  had 

II* 


1 64  AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

discussed  the  individualities  that  formed  his  business  life  as 
much  as  those  of  their  own  social  world.  They  had  always 
been  together,  even  through  the  hours  that  elapsed  until  they 
met  on  the  platform,  and  still  nearer  to  each  other  inside  the 
hall  door  when  they  kissed  as  fondly  as  in  the  first  moments 
of  their  avowal  of  love  for  each  other.  There  is  no  intimacy 
so  intricate  and  inconceivable  to  the  world  at  large  as  that 
of  a  marriage  of  choice,  confirmed  by  experience.  It  was 
nothing  to  Fate  that  Eldred's  fingers  did  not  close  upon  her 
own  inserted  in  them,  save  that  it  told  her  of  the  non-recog- 
nition also  in  his  mind.  She  could  bear  to  forego  his  kisses, 
but  not  the  look  in  his  eyes  as  they  rested  on  her.  The 
one  meant  what  any  man  might  have  given  her,  and  was  of 
value  only  as  a  woman  chose  to  accept  it ;  the  other  meant — 
Eldred. 

She  did  not  tire  of  her  mental  vigil,  but  her  body  drooped 
and  ached  for  sleep  as  the  long  Sunamer  night  dragged 
towards  the  dawn.  Between  two  and  three  in  the  morning, 
when  life  is  lowest,  she  felt  as  if  her  face  grew  haggard  with 
the  strain,  and  her  eyes  yearned  to  the  window  for  the  first 
hint  of  dawn  in  the  sky.  With  a  growing  terror,  too,  born 
of  her  bodily  weakness,  she  looked  for  a  sign  in  that  face 
on  the  pillow,  knowing  how  many  lives  go  out  at  that  hour 
to  meet  the  morning.  With  her  hands  still  clasped  upon  her 
knee  she  waited,  her  red  mouth  pressed  to  one  crimson  line 
like  blood,  while  Eldred  was  borne  further  and  further  from 
her  on  the  tide  of  his  unconsciousness.  It  was  then  that  her- 
forefathers  stood  her  in  good  stead,  and  forced  the  reluctant 
flesh  to  bear  the  strain  that  seemed  unendurable.  For 
generations  this  woman's  ancestors  had  been  learning  to  wait 
and  work  and  endure;  they  had  learned  the  stress  of  life, 
as  the  educated  classes  learn  it  while  they  still  earn  their  right 
of  way,  and  the  training  that  had  made  them  sound  men  and 
self-respecting  women  gave  Fate  Leroy  her  power  of  control 
as  she  sat  out  that  first  interminable  night  at  her  husband's 
bedside.  For  with  every  natural  impulse  of  sex  comes  the 
responsibility  of  the  future,  and  the  man  who  begets  a  child 
lays  upon  himself  the  obligation  of  begetting  a  Nation. 
While  we  blame  our  fathers — rightly — for  our  infirmities,  we 
incur  the  blame  of  unborn  generations,  quite  as  rightly,  if 
we  hamper  them  by  inheritance  of  our  self-failure  or  self- 
indulgence.      Fate  was  a  good  woman,   and  a  brave  one; 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  165 

but  she  had  not  only  her  own  free  will  to  thank,  but  the 
slow  and  painful  building  of  those  who  had  come  before 
her,  in  whose  every  self-denial  and  concessions  to  common- 
sense  her  own  character  and  physique  had  been  formed. 
Before  we  praise  or  blame  a  single  class,  let  us  look  to  their 
breeding. 

The  critical  time  of  the  night  passed  away,  having  brought 
no  change  in  that  absent  face  on  the  pillow;  the  grey  dawn 
came  almost  imperceptibly  through  the  blinds  and  brought 
the  hesitating  day.  When  the  sun  rose  across  the  road,  and 
warmed  a  maiden  Heaven  to  rosy  consciousness  of  his 
presence,  the  broad  light  found  a  woman  with  a  white  tired 
face  in  the  old  attitude  by  the  bedside,  her  aching  eyes  rest- 
ing on  what  might  mean  to  her  a  broken  marriage  tie. 


i66 


CHAPTER   XI. 

"  His  gift  is  the  lovable  human 
Flung  from  a  reckless  sky  ;  — 
Brute  beauty  flashed  on  the  senses, 

Then  passed  by. 
For  Nature  has  made  of  his  manhood 
One  splendid  —  lie  !  " 

Satan-fact. 

*  I  HAVE  never  quite  made  up  my  mind  why  we  go  to  these 
sort  of  entertainments — or,  for  that  matter,  to  any  entertain- 
ments." 

"  To  see  our  friends,  perhaps,"  Lexiter  ventured,  looking 
steadily  away  from  Patricia  to  the  belt  of  quivering  electric 
lights  which  were  starring  the  trees.  As  he  was  extremely 
uncertain  how  the  least  hint  of  personal  attraction  would  be 
received  he  hazarded  the  suggestion  with  his  head  up,  Nature 
having  made  it  easy  for  him  to  ignore  a  snub  by  placing  his 
eyes  on  a  higher  level  than  those  of  the  rest  of  his  acquaint- 
ances. 

"  Who  are  one's  friends  ?  "  said  Patricia,  a  little  wearily. 
'■'  If  you  said  one's  connections  it  would  be  more  appropriate." 

"  No,  it  wouldn't.  No  one  ever  went  anywhere  to  meet  a 
connection  who  was  a  connection  and  nothing  more." 

"Well,  no  one  was  ever  entertained  at  an  entertainment, 
either." 

"  I  am  sorry  I  am  failing  so  lamentably,"  said  Caryl  with 
his  spontaneous  laugh,  and  Patricia  laughed  also,  but  more  in 
enjoyment  of  the  pleasant  ring  of  it  than  of  his  mild  irony. 

"  That  is  the  worst  of  being  a  connection,"  she  said.  "  You 
see  I  am  not  even  civil  to  you ! " 

"  Heaven  forbid  ! "  he  said  fervently.     "  I  should  suspect 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  167 

you  of  hating  me,  and  that  is  a  consummation  devoutly  not 
to  be  wished  !  " 

Patricia  turned  her  head  rather  quickly  and  looked  at  him. 
His  voice  had  dropped  a  little,  and  she  distrusted  lowered 
voices ;  they  generally  meant  a  desperate  attempt  to  advance 
in  intimacy,  and  she  had  already  refused  three  men  whose 
card  debts  were  larger  than  their  prudence.  She  did  not 
want  another  such  interruption  to  a  pleasant  intercourse,  in 
this  case.  But  Lexiter's  face  was  bent  rather  thoughtfully 
over  the  cigarette  between  his  fingers,  and  his  eyes  declined 
to  betray  him.  Patricia  looked  in  vain,  but  having  looked 
she  became  aware  of  the  fact  that  evening  dress  is  peculiarly 
becoming  to  a  certain  type  of  man.  Caryl's  physical  advan- 
tages had  never  been  more  patent  to  her  mind  than  now  as 
he  strolled  by  her  side  under  the  trees,  bareheaded,  for  the 
night  was  warm.  Other  men  wore  their  hats  because  it  was 
more  conventional,  and  few  Englishmen  care  to  court  remark 
from  their  fellows  unless  they  are  of  an  artistic  type  whose 
pose  is  half  their  profession,  or  else  are  so  absolutely  sure  of 
themselves  that  the  opinion  of  others  does  not  count.  Lexiter 
belonged  to  the  latter  minority.  That  his  thick  silvery  hair 
made  him  all  the  more  noticeable  because  he  carried  his  hat 
in  his  hand  did  not  trouble  him  at  all.  He  did  not  do  it  for 
the  sake  of  attracting  attention,  so  much  as  from  a  perverse 
feeling  that  he  would  behave  as  he  pleased. 

"I  suppose  the  real  explanation  of  my  presence  here  is 
that  my  father  is  a  member  of  the  Botanic  Society,"  he 
said  candidly.  "  Most  of  the  residents  in  Portland  Place  are. 
The  tickets  for  the  FSte  were  there,  and  it  struck  me  that  it 
would  be  cooler  than  indoors.     That's  all." 

Being  reassured  of  the  personal  application  of  his  presence, 
Patricia  very  naturally  challenged  it. 

"  Dear  me  !  I  quite  thought  you  came  to  meet  me ! "  she 
said. 

"  So  I  did — but  you  seemed  inclined  to  resent  my  saying 
so! " 

Then  they  both  laughed  simultaneously,  and  other  people 
strolling  in  twos  and  threes  at  a  hearing  distance  looked  a 
trifle  curiously,  a  trifle  significantly,  at  the  couple  who  were 
seemingly  so  well  amused  with  each  other. 

"  Isn't  that  Mrs.  Blais  Heron  with  her  Parson  ? "  said 
Lexiter  with  quickened  interest  as  they  sauntered  a  little  out 


1 68  AS   YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

of  the  beaten  throng  towards  the  lake.  Two  dark  figures 
were  ahead  of  them,  vanishing  in  the  direction  of  the  bridge, 
and  he  strained  his  tall  head  up  to  see.  "I  am  sure  I  recognise 
her  back — I  am  growing  used  to  seeing  it  disappear  from  me 
down  a  green  vista  of  trees.  She  seems  to  find  that  a  reli- 
gious flirtation  is  best  staged  by  Nature !  "  An  amused  re- 
miniscence flitted  across  his  handsome  face.  He  remembered 
those  same  figures  in  a  green  walk  in  Battersea  Park 

"  I  daresay  it  is,"  said  Patricia  indifferently.  "  I  wish 
Editha  did  not  try  to  justify  her  flirtations  to  me.  She  has 
been  explaining  the  various  men  who  follow  in  her  train, 
until  I  am  a  little  bewildered.  When  it  was  Captain  Blais 
(that  was  in  March),  she  excused  her  frivolities  by  saying  that 
a  married  woman  in  Society  was  bound  to  appear  successful 
— for  her  husband's  sake !  And  now  that  it  is  a  clergyman 
(he  appeared  as  late  as  June),  she  says  that  she  has  begun  to 
think  more  seriously  of  life,  and  they  have  such  nice  talks." 

"  Yes,"  chimed  in  Lexiter,  "  and  when  it  was  old  Lord 
Ragby  (that  was  a  passing  phase  of  April),  she  said  that 
though  she  might  appear  frivolous,  she  was  really  using  her 
influence  to  improve  the  tone  of  her  circle,  and  him  in  par- 
ticular !  The  worst  of  it  is  she  always  uses  the  phase  belong- 
ing to  the  last  man,  and  adapts  it  to  the  new  comer!" 

"  Her  liking  for  them  appears  to  be  a  pretty  patchwork  of 
old  affections ! "  said  Patricia,  trying  to  keep  the  contempt 
out  of  her  voice.  "  If  you  really  think  that  that  lady  is 
Editha,  would  you  mind  coming  in  the  opposite  direction  ?  " 

"Why?" 

"  I  have  no  particular  desire  to  meet  her  with — with  that 
man.     Have  you  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  would  be  rather  amusing !  " 

"  How  idle  you  are,  Caryl !  "  Patricia  said  in  slow  wonder- 
ment. "  How  can  it  interest  you  to  make  such  a  woman  as 
Editha  Blais  Heron  a  little  conscious  for  the  moment?  It  is 
only  mischief,  I  know,  but  it  is  so  pointless,  even  as  mischief, 
I  think  I  could  forgive  you  better  if  you  were  absolutely 
spiteful.     There  is  generally  a  settled  purpose  in  spite." 

Lexiter  looked  a  little  nonplussed ;  he  frequently  found  it 
an  effort  to  understand  Patricia  exactly,  and  he  was  not  at  all 
sure  that  he  enjoyed  it  when  he  did  so.  She  did  not  scold 
him — he  was  used  to  being  scolded  by  women,  it  was  a  form 
of  their  claims  to  him — but  she  really  appeared  to  wonder 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  169 

at  him,  and  not  always  with  admiration.  He  did  what  his 
instinct  prompted  him  to  do,  and  skilfully  turned  an  un- 
propitious  opening  to  account. 

"  It  is  kind  of  you  to  be  interested  in  me,  anyhow,  Nougat," 
he  said  with  a  simple  good  humour  that  disarmed  her.  "  I 
would  rather  you  objected  to  my  idleness  than  that  you  did 
not  care  whether  I  were  better  employed  or  no !  " 

Patricia  turned  a  trifle  abruptly  and  began  to  retrace  her 
steps  to  the  more  populated  part  of  the  Gardens.  There 
was  no  doubt  about  the  personality  this  time.  A  vague  pos- 
sibility that  had  crossed  her  mind  before  began  to  assume 
definite  shape,  and  took  the  form  of  a  question  that  she  might 
have  to  ask  herself.  She  was  not  ready  for  it  yet,  however, 
and  rather  resented  its  lack  of  repugnance  to  her  mind. 

"  Have  you  seen  Chiffon  lately  ? "  she  said  with  obvious 
irrelevance.  "  She  was  to  have  lunched  with  me  yesterday, 
but  she  sent  me  a  note  at  the  eleventh  hour  to  say  that  she 
had  to  see  a  dressmaker  or  some  importance  of  that  sort. 
I  rather  hoped  she  would  be  here  to-night." 

"  Bobby  told  me  they  were  not  coming,"  said  Lexiter  easily, 
skirting  a  lie  with  the  same  skeleton  principle  that  made  him 
go  to  church.     "  I  met  him  at  Tattersall's." 

"Do  you  know,  I  am  amusingly  ignorant,  but  I  positively 
do  not  know  where  that  is !  I  think  no  one  can  realise  but 
myself  the  lack  of  my  knowledge  of  London.  I  am  only  just 
learning  not  to  lose  myself  when  I  go  afoot." 

"  Tattersall's  is  at  Knightsbridge.  Bobby  was  buying  some 
gees  for  his  place  in  the  country,  and  I  was  helping  him," 
said  Caryl  airily.  "  He  got  a  pretty  little  cob  I  should  have 
liked  myself;  it  was  cheap,  too." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  for  Chiffon  to  ride  ?  I  like  cobs  for 
ladies,  particularly  in  the  country,"  said  Patricia  unexpectedly. 
"  I  rather  envy  you  at  your  unknown  Tattersall's.  The  only 
things  I  find  really  interesting  in  London  seem  to  be  the  things 
usually  consigned  to  men  !  " 

"  Another  surprise ! "  said  Lexiter  with  lifted  brows. 
"  Why  ?     Are  you  so  fond  of  horses  ?  " 

"  It  must  be  in  my  blood,  I  think,"  said  Patricia  a  trifle 
apologetically.  "  My  mother  comes  of  a  racing  house,  but 
she  does  not  care  for  horseflesh  one  half  as  much  as  I  do. 
Possibly,  if  I  could  go  far  enough  into  my  father's  ancestry  T 
should  find  that  one  of  them  had  been  a  horse-breaker." 


17 o  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

Caryl  laughed  again,  but  he  looked  as  if  he  were  being 
pleased  as  well  as  amused.  "  I  will  tell  you  what  we  will  do," 
he  said.  "  We  will  go  for  a  ride  together  if  you  like,  and  you 
shall  try  a  little  mare  of  mine — or  rather  of  my  brother's.  He 
has  lent  her  to  me  while  I  am  in  town,  with  the  understanding 
that  I  shall  try  to  sell  her  at  the  end  of  the  season.  She 
Is  hardly  up  to  my  weight,  but  she  might  suit  you.  Would 
you  like  to  judge  for  yourself?  Or,  perhaps  you  do  not  want 
another  horse  ?  " 

"  I  perceive  by  a  certain  dryness  in  your  tone  that  you  do 
not  think  much  of  my  probable  capabilities  of  judgment ! 
Nevertheless  I  accept  your  offer,  and  if  I  like  the  mare  I  will 
buy  her.  I  have  ridden  both  my  mother's  horses  and  those 
kept  for  my  own  use,  but  I  am  not  yet  satisfied." 

"  I  detest  riding  in  town  as  a  rule,"  said  Caryl  carelessly. 
"  But  I  would  have  endured  even  the  Row  if  I  had  known 
you  were  there.  How  one  misses  one's  opportunities!  It 
never  occurred  to  me  that  I  should  find  anything  there  worth 
the  getting  up  to  see  !  " 

"  It  does  not  say  much  for  your  power  of  discovering 
people's  tastes  that  you  have  known  me  three  or  four  months 
and  have  never  found  out  that  I  could  ride  until  now !  "  said 
Patricia  drily.  "  I  did  not  think  to  tell  you  because  I  have 
never  seen  you  on  horseback  at  all." 

"And  now  it  is  the  end  of  the  season — my  father  is  going 
down  to  Queensleigh  next  week,"  said  Lexiter  with  genuine 
regret.     "  I  suppose  your  plans  are  made  also  ?  " 

"  My  mother's  are,  I  believe,"  said  Nougat  with  her  usual 
serenity  in  mentioning  Lady  Vera's  life  as  separate  from  her 
own.  "  I  am  hovering  between  Rye  and  an  invitation  to 
stay  with  Chiffon." 

"Rye!  Do  you  mean  Rye  in  Sussex?  What  on 
earth " 

"We  have  a  house  there,"  said  Patricia  inclusively.  "My 
father  often  goes  down  for  golf.    There  are  very  good  links." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Lexiter,  with  a  half  curious  glance  at  her. 
The  house  at  Rye  had  slipped  his  memory  as  much  as  Mr. 
Mornington  himself  was  wont  to  do.  He  wondered  how 
Lady  Vera  would  take  this  suggestion  of  Nougat's !  He  felt 
nearly  certain  that  it  had  not  reached  her  wildest  imagination 
as  yet.  But  the  composed  strength  of  Patricia's  face  as  she 
strolled  beside  him  made  him  draw  his  breath  rather  deeply. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  171 

He  knew  enough  of  physiognomy  to  realise  that  one  had  to 
reckon  with  such  a  mouth  and  chin  as  that,  with  the  wide 
brows  and  powerful  brown  eyes — with  the  whole  face  that  had 
no  single  undeniable  weakness.  What  would  Lady  Vera 
say?  What,  more  wonderful  still,  would  Giles  Mornington 
say  himself  to  Nougat's  hopelessly  rational  suggestion  that 
she  should  go  to  Rye  ?  He  remembered  now  that  the  finan- 
cier had  an  unobtrusive  habit  of  fading  out  of  the  house  in 
Piccadilly,  to  reappear  in  reference  only  as  being  at  Rye 
playing  golf.  The  house  was  apparently  of  sufficient  im- 
portance to  be  called  a  "  place."  It  was  in  any  case  the  only 
landed  property  with  which  Giles  Mornington  had  ever  bur- 
dened himself.  But  if  he  had  visitors  they  were  all  of  the 
male  sex.  Lady  Vera  and  her  noisy  house-parties  had  never 
gone  to  Rye,  he  felt  sure,  for  the  very  adequate  reason  that 
at  some  time  or  other  at  least  he  would  have  been  amongst 
them. 

"  Either  of  those  alternatives  will,  I  am  afraid,  place  you 
out  of  my  reach,"  he  said  frankly.  "  For  I  am  not  going  to 
the  Harbinger's  that  I  know  of,  and  I  suppyose  you  will  not 
ask  your  father  to  invite  me  to  Rye?" 

She  smiled  a  little  teasingly.  "  I  am  not  invited  myself, 
yet !  Never  mind,  there  is  still  a  ride  left  you.  When  am  I 
to  try  the  mare  ?  " 

"To-morrow  morning,  if  you  like.  She  is  quite  at  your 
disposal.     Shall  I  call  for  you  about  eleven?  " 

"Yes.  I  do  not  know  that  I  am  supposed  to  be  doing 
anything  else,"  said  Nougat  musingly.  "  There  is  my  mother, 
talking  to  Lord  Lowndes  by  the  tent,  and,  do  you  know,  I 
think  she  looks  as  if  she  wanted  to  leave  ?  I  can  always  tell 
when  people  are  waiting  for  me  without  any  patience  for  my 
dallying,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  From  this  distance  I  can  see  nothing  but  a  fiery  glare 
that  blinds  me.  How  like  the  old  dragons  of  the  fairy 
stories  those  gowns  do  make  women  look,  don't  they? 
Lady  Vera  might  be  on  fire." 

Even  as  he  said  the  words,  lightly  enough,  it  struck  him 
that  it  was  a  suggestive  prophecy  for  Lady  Vera,  if  her  sins 
were  to  be  rewarded  in  the  orthodox  way  from  a  religious 
point  of  view.  He  almost  wished  he  had  not  said  it;  but 
Patricia  did  not  answer — she  was  making  steady  progress 
towards  her  mother  through  the  crowd,  and  paused  at  her 


172  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

elbow  with  patient  courtesy  for  some  seconds  before  Lady 
Vera  chose  to  acknowledge  her. 

"  How  awfully  killing  1  "  she  was  saying,  with  the  metallic 
laugh  that  hurt  a  sensitive  ear  as  it  struck  with  something 
material.  "  I  shall  tell  Ernie.  He  used  to  admire  her 
awfully  last  year,  but  I  think  he  has  gone  after  the  St.  James 
woman  now." 

"Well,  Mrs.  St.  James  is  a  great  improvement  on  Lady 
Haversham." 

Lady  Vera  shrieked  with  laughter  again.  "  Fancy  her 
taking  to  opium  though!  Lionel — Captain  Blais — tells  me 
you  have  the  most  devy  sensations !  I  have  almost  a  mind 
to  try  it." 

"  Because  you  have  tried  everything  else ! "  commented 
Lord  Lowndes.  "  Anything  for  a  new  experience,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  Of  course,"  Patricia  chimed  in  quietly,  without  waiting 
longer  to  be  recognised.  "That  is  why  we  are  so  fond  of 
the  Switchback  Railway,  in  reality.  It  takes  our  breath 
away — and  it  is  so  few  things  that  will  do  that  nowadays." 

"  I  am  under  command  to  find  your  carriage,"  said  Lord 
Lowndes  as  they  shook  hands.  "  Lady  Vera  says  she  has 
had  enough  of  this,  at  all  events." 

"Yes.  Really,  Nougat,  we  must  go.  Beastly  dull,  isn't 
it,  Car?  That  tent  was  a  good  old  frowst !  Editha  said  she 
was  choked  with  the  smell  of  humanity  there." 

"  She  was  still  trying  humanity,  however,  in  the  open  air, 
when  we  saw  her !  "  said  Caryl  cynically,  "  But  to  be  just  to 
her  she  was  proving  her  preference  for  it  singly  to  taken  in 
the  lump."  He  took  the  cloak  that  was  slipping  from 
Patricia's  shoulders  and  threw  it  round  her  again.  As  he 
did  so  his  fingers  just  brushed  her  throat,  but  so  lightly  that 
it  would  not  have  ruffled  the  down  on  a  butterfly's  wing,  and 
left  her  wondering,  after  that  first  indignant  bound  of  her 
heart,  if  it  had  been  accident. 

"  To-morrow  then,  at  eleven  ?  "  he  said. 

Her  grave  eyes  looked  up  straight  into  the  audacity  of  his, 
and  found  him  laughing.  But  she  did  not  laugh  also,  though 
almost  any  other  woman  must  have  done  so  he  judged,  and 
left  him  with  a  slight  bow  which  pledged  her  to  nothing. 

"  Having  done  it,  it  was  best  to  laugh !  "  said  Caryl  as  he 
strolled  away  amongst  the  lessening  crowd,  looking  for  his 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  173 

acquaintance,  and  followed  by  questioning  or  admiring 
glances — "  Who's  the  man  without  a  hat  ?  "  "  One  of  Lord 
Queensleigh's  sons  !  " — "  I  wonder  if  I  made  a  mistake  ?  "  he 
mused.  "  Nougat  is  just  enough  of  a  prude  to  grow  tiresome. 
I  hope  it  won't  upset  our  arrangement  to  ride.  Well,  we  shall 
see  to-morrow." 

He  joined  a  group  he  knew,  by  no  means  disturbed  at  the 
risk  of  offending  a  woman  though  it  happened  to  be  Patricia, 
and  made  himself  as  charming  as  it  was  worth  his  while. 
Lexiter  was  naturally  social,  but  he  had  found  that  a  very 
little  amiability  in  his  own  case  did  as  well  as  a  great  deal  in 
others.  When  he  did  choose  to  exert  himself  he  was  very 
nearly  irresistible — to  a  certain  type  of  woman. 

Patricia  leaned  back  in  her  corner  of  the  brougham  when 
they  drove  away,  as  nearly  silent  as  politeness  allowed.  She 
interpolated  a  "  yes  "  or  "  no  "  into  the  disjointed  stream  of 
Lady  Vera's  jerky  small  talk,  but  her  thoughts  strayed  away 
and  disquieted  her.  It  had  been  a  shock  to  find  that  any 
man — even  Caryl  Lexiter— should  dare  to  touch  her  without 
her  own  permission ;  it  was  a  greater  shock  to  find  that  she 
did  not  much  mind  after  all.  Did  she  like  him  so  much,  or 
was  it  that  it  hardly  seemed  worth  while  to  be  angry  ?  for  she 
had  always  taken  Caryl  with  a  certain  tolerance,  as  of  the 
Gawain  typ« : 

'*  Light  was  Gawain  in  life,  and  light  in  death  ! "  ^  ' 

It  would  be  making  him  of  too  much  importance  to  be 
angry  with  most  of  his  graceful  insolences.  Or  was  it  that 
she  was  getting  careless,  and  taking  the  tone  of  the  women 
round  her,  whose  flesh,  it  seemed,  was  free  of  touch  to  men's 
fingers?  She  lifted  her  lovely  head  with  a  sense  of  distaste, 
and  stared  with  hardening  eyes  out  at  Regent  Street,  flashing 
by  as  they  bowled  down  to  Piccadilly.  No,  Lady  Helen's 
tenets  were  too  firmly  ingrained  in  her  for  that. 

She  came  back  to  the  supposition  that  she  liked  him  too 
well  to  mind,  and  faced  the  problem  that  lay  behind  it. 
Should  she  marry  Caryl  Lexiter,  and  so  buy  her  escape  from 
a  life  that  she  was  beginning  to  find  intolerable  ?  For  as  a 
married  woman  she  could  at  least  pick  and  choose  without 
question ;  she  could  go  her  own  way  without  the  sense  of 
battle  in  the  air  which  threatened  her  at  each  fresh  step  to- 


174  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

wards  independence.  She  knew,  too  proudly  to  ask  herself 
why,  that  at  least  Lady  Vera  would  put  no  bar  in  the  way  of 
her  marrying  Caryl,  though  she  might  have  looked  to  make 
a  far  more  brilliant  match.  As  to  the  man  himself,  Patricia 
acknowledged  that  she  liked  him,  even  without  analysing  her 
sensations  too  closely.  Most  women  did  like  Caryl  Lexiter, 
in  spite  of  his  faults.  He  was  one  of  those  men  who  is  bound 
to  live  out  his  life  through  a  series  of  broken  hearts  that  had 
begun  with  his  mother's,  and  would  end  God  knew  where. 
But  Patricia  was  not  a  girl  to  ask  too  much,  even  of  mar- 
riage. She  had  become  sufficiently  disillusioned,  even  after 
five  months  in  the  house  in  Piccadilly,  to  think  that  mutual 
consideration,  and  actual  liking,  were  as  much  as  one  might 
insist  upon  from  fortune.  There  was  another  household  at 
Sunnington  of  which  she  would  not  think  just  now,  and  she 
thrust  it  aside  as  an  ideal  beyond  most  women's  hope.  It 
was  because  she  did  not  want  to  contrast  it  with  her  own 
possible  future  that  she  had  not  been  to  see  Fate  Leroy  for 
a  longer  period  than  usual,  and  had  no  intention  of  going  at 
present.  She  wanted  to  make  up  her  mind  without  disturb- 
ance, if  she  were  really  going  to  consider  the  possibility  of 
marrying  Caryl  Lexiter,  for  that  he  would  eventually  ask  her 
to  do  so  she  had  no  doubt  in  her  inmost  heart.  Somewhat 
pitifully  ^e  would  not  face  herself  too  closely  with  his 
motives;  they  liked  each  other,  they  were  excellent  friends 
and  fairly  good  companions,  and  she  could  at  least  promise 
herself  that  his  manners  would  never  offend  her — in  public. 
As  to  their  private  intercourse,  money  at  least  places  a  woman 
in  a  position  to  withdraw  into  her  own  personal  sphere  and 
exclude  even  her  husband  if  she  pleases.  After  marriage 
they  would  no  doubt  go  their  own  way  to  a  certain  extent; 
but  Patricia  meant  to  keep  the  outward  decency  of  a  good 
understanding  with  him.  He  would  stray  away  from  her  of 
course,  but  not  very  far,  and  with  the  unconscious  conceit  of 
a  beautiful  woman  who  has  proved  her  own  charm  she  thought 
that  she  could  easily  whistle  him  back  did  she  choose.  She 
had  never  yet  known  Caryl  well  enough,  however,  to  recog- 
nise the  far  limits  of  his  straying  capacities. 

It  was  in  her  mind  to  refuse  the  riding  expedition  that 
night,  but  after  all  she  changed  her  mind  next  morning,  and 
went,  finding  no  further  advance  to  alarm  her  in  his  usual 
debonair   manner.      Caryl    was   in   truth   secretly   surprised 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  175 

that  he  escaped  with  no  worse  snub  for  the  last  night's 
venture,  and  if  she  chose  to  ignore  it  he  would  reward  her 
with  a  more  scrupulous  attention  to  the  conventionalities.  He 
looked  well  on  horseback  because  he  was  perfectly  at  his 
ease,  and  a  sense  of  exhilaration  and  comradeship  quickened 
Patricia's  splendid  vitality  with  the  rush  of  the  flying  hoofs 
as  they  rode  side  by  side.  Caryl  and  the  little  black  mare  had 
arrived  before  the  time  he  had  appointed,  if  anything,  and 
they  pushed  for  it  to  get  down  to  Richmond  and  try  a  canter  in 
the  Park.  The  air  felt  fresher  than  it  had  done  in  Piccadilly, 
and  the  blood  beat  joyously  in  her  veins  with  the  first  increase 
of  speed  in  the  mare's  stride.  Through  the  flicker  of  sun 
and  shadow  her  companion  seemed  to  her  to  swing  along 
naturally  at  her  side,  as  though  some  mental  affinity  were 
suggested  by  the  physical  movement.  Stride  by  stride,  neck 
by  neck,  the  big  grey  horse  and  the  black  mare  kept  easily 
abreast  of  each  other,  while  through  the  brilliant  morning  the 
familiar,  handsome  face  beside  her  seemed  to  Patricia  a  very 
possible  one  to  have  always  in  her  life. 

"  Take  care  !  "  said  Lexiter  warningly.  "  Hold  her  in — she 
gets  away  with  you  sometimes." 

"  I  feel  almost  too  much  in  sympathy  with  her  to  object ! " 
said  Patricia,  with  a  laugh  in  her  voice  bom  of  the 
triumphant  speed.  "  I  should  like  to  run  away  myself,  this 
morning !  " 

He  laughed  also,  but  he  took  no  advantage  of  the  reckless- 
ness of  her  speech.  He  was  too  wise  to  risk  checking  this 
unusual  mood  of  hers,  but  his  quiet  glance  rested  on  her  for 
a  moment  comprehensively — the  rich  beauty  of  her  quickened 
face,  and  the  perfect  balance  of  the  lovely  figure.  Truly, 
some  ancestral  blood  must  have  made  horseback  an  instinct 
with  Patricia,  that  it  should  stir  her  like  this !  She  was 
happy,  in  love  with  her  mount,  body  and  brain  alike  enjoying 
the  exercise.  When  he  asked  her  if  she  would  care  to  be  the 
permanent  owner  of  Asti,  she  was  jealously  eager,  and 
would  have  concluded  the  bargain  then  and  there.  The  very 
frankness  with  which  he  told  her  that  it  was  to  his  interest  to 
sell  the  mare  for  his  brother.  Lord  Loftus,  gave  her  a  more 
generous  liking  for  him,  and  she  would  have  paid  a  fancy 
price  had  he  been  unscrupulous  enough  to  ask  for  it.  She  was 
more  absorbed  in  her  new  purchase  than  Caryl  had  expected 
to  be  possible,  and  he  saw  and  promptly  seized  the  tie  of  a 


176  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

new  sympathy  between  them.  He  was  not  allowing  her  to 
cheat  herself,  for  he  was  a  real  judge  of  horses,  and  over  the 
luncheon  table  at  Piccadilly  they  became  more  intimately 
acquainted  than  they  had  been  up  till  now.  Asti,  the  black 
mare,  was  an  unexpected  straw  to  turn  the  scale,  but  she 
seemed  a  revelation  of  possibilities  to  Patricia. 

"  We  should  have  mutual  tastes,  and  one  thing  in  common 
at  least,"  she  told  herself,  looking  across  the  round  table  at 
Caryl  with  a  resentful  start  to  think  that  she  might  do  so  in 
their  own  house.  His  fresh  face  with  its  good  looks  struck 
her  as  a  familiar  thing  that  might  belong  to  her,  almost  it 
seemed  without  her  willing  it  to  be  so.  It  was  seldom  that 
circumstances  seemed  too  strong  for  Patricia,  in  comparison 
to  her  own  right  of  action,  but  she  realised  that  she  was  drift- 
ing to  a  great  event  in  her  life,  which  made  her  present  sur- 
roundings the  more  superficial  by  contrast.  To  recognise 
her  future  husband  across  the  delicate  roses  and  forced 
peaches  on  the  luncheon-table,  struck  her  as  a  mockery.  The 
exaltation  of  the  ride  had  decreased  a  little,  and  she  was  only 
reluctant  to  face  actual  destiny. 

"  I  wonder  what  has  happened  to  the  Harbutts  ?  "  said  Lady 
Vera  at  the  moment,  snatching  pickled  lobster  into  her  mouth 
with  a  fork  and  a  gobble.  The  table-manners  of  the  Blais 
were  as  frankly  natural  as  those  of  Soho.  "  I  haven't  seen 
Emma  since  she  was  here  the  other  day.  She  looked 
wretchedly  ill  then — so  does  Windersley." 

"  Where  did  you  see  him  ?  "  asked  Lexiter  with  the  keen 
look  in  his  eyes  that  gossip  of  his  acquaintance  always  woke 
in  them.  It  seemed  to  Patricia  that  he  was  more  interested 
in  trivialities  with  regard  to  soiled  men  and  women  than  any- 
thing else,  and  her  heart  sank. 

"  On    Saturday,    in   Norfolk.     We  did   the   hundred    and 
eleven  miles  in  five  hours  and  a  quarter,  never  stopping  a 
second.     What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 
"  Whose  car  ?     Not  yours  !  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Carberry's.  He  turned  us  all  out  at  a  little  inn 
where  we  could  get  nothing  but  eggs  and  bacon — a  regular 
pothouse  of  a  place.  And  there  was  Windersley  in  the  tap- 
room, drinking  vile  beer.  We  simply  shrieked.  He  looks 
frightfully  fed  up  with  the  whole  business  though.  I  didn't 
mention  Emma,  of  course.  If  you  are  doing  nothing  this 
afternoon,  Nougat,  we  might  go  and  see  her." 


AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN.  i77 

"I  am  going  out  of  town  this  afternoon — into  the  wilder- 
ness !  "  said  Patricia  with  faint  but  polite  irony.  The  decision 
was  so  sudden  that  it  seemed  to  form  itself  in  her  mind  even 
while  she  spoke,  but  she  knew  that  she  was  going  to  see  Fate 
and  ease  her  mind  of  its  threatened  decision,  behind  which 
lurked  the  good-looking  face  opposite.     Should  she?  ...   . 

Should  she  not  ? Perhaps  Fate's  habit  of  analytical 

talk,  even  when  the  subject  was  personally  unknown  to  her, 
might  help  her.  "  I  am  going  to  Sunnington,"  she  said  in  a 
final  tone  that  admitted  no  argument. 

I.ady  Vera  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "At  least  you  will 
have  some  fresh  air ! "  she  said  with  unwonted  civility. 
"What  are  you  doing,  Car?" 

"  Nothing,  if  Nougat  deserts  me." 

"Come  along,  then — I'll  take  you  to  see  Emma  Harbutt, 
and  we'll  probe  the  situation  !  " 

"  Poor  Lady  Harbutt !  "  said  Patricia  in  her  kindly  heart. 
One  of  the  most  extraordinary  and  degrading  things  in  the 
lives  of  the  people  round  her,  to  her  mind,  was  the  ease  with 
which  they  appeared  to  regard  and  discuss  immorality.  It 
seemed  almost  a  childish  curiosity,  utterly  out  of  proportion  to 
what  she  had  been  trained  to  regard  as  at  least  a  tragedy,  and 
almost  as  a  crime.  Lady  Vera  was  taking  Caryl  Lexiter  to  call 
on  Lady  Harbutt  with  an  artificial  sympathy  that  had  not  in 
it  even  that  excuse,  in  reality ;  what  she  really  wished  was  to 
discover  how  far  the  trouble  had  gone,  and  whether  Sir 
Richard  had  made  a  commotion,  and  if  there  were  going  to 
be  a  scandal.  And  Caryl  was  going — because  it  interested 
him  for  the  same  reason.  The  last  of  the  riding  exaltation 
died  away.     Patricia  felt  utterly  discouraged. 

"  He  can't  turn  her  out  of  the  house — he  has  much 
too  much  love  of  the  family  dignity !  "  Patricia  heard  her 
mother  say  confidentially  to  Caryl  as  they  all  gathered 
in  the  hall  together.  "  Besides,  there  is  his  name  to  con- 
sider!" 

It  all  seemed  to  Patricia  hopelessly  ill-bred — even  the  piti- 
ful clinging  to  respectability  expressed  in  the  husband's  care 
of  his  "  name  "  above  his  honour.  Poor  fetish  of  the  Aristo- 
cracy— the  last  remnants  of  self-respect  left  them  !  Now- 
adays, it  seemed,  a  man  was  less  solicitous  of  his  wife's 
fidelity  than  of  the  world's  cognisance  of  it.  So  long  as  his 
"  Name  "  was  not  openly  a  printed  scoff,  she  might  bring  what 

12 


178  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

bastard  blood  she  pleased  to  sully  his  race,  and  these  things 
were  always  guessed,  though  they  did  not  get  into  print. 

"  If  I  were  a  man,"  said  Patricia  with  the  slow  conviction 
of  her  nature,  "  I  would  face  the  publicity  and  the  scandal — 
but  not  the  canker  in  my  own  home.  No  woman  should 
calculate  on  my  slavery  to  outward  decency  in  order  to  foul 
her  marriage  tie.  As  long  as  women  of  what  is  called  the 
Upper  Class  know  that  they  can  make  their  husbands  a  con- 
venience to  their  lovers,  because  of  the  family  pride,  just  so 
long  they  will  risk  facing  the  Divorce  Court — knowing  that  it 
will  not  come  to  that.  Yes,  I  am  of  the  Middle  Class.  I 
show  it  most  plainly  in  this  I  " 

She  clenched  her  long  delicate  hands,  and  unconsciously 
denied  her  assertion  by  every  racial  line  of  her  indignant 
body.  The  thought  of  Lady  Harbutt  and  her  fettered  hus- 
band kept  her  company  the  whole  way  to  the  familiar  suburb, 
down  the  long  road  bordered  by  shady  trees,  in  at  the 
little  gate,  up  even  to  the  quiet  door  that  was  generally 
open,  but  was  now  closed.  Still  too  absorbed  in  her  thought 
to  be  more  than  vaguely  puzzled,  she  rang  the  bell, 
and 

"  Mr.  Vaughan  !  "  she  said,  awakening  to  the  surprise  of 
the  encounter  and  the  sudden  suspicion  of  something  being 
wrong. 

His  quick  step  had  sounded  in  the  hall  almost  before  she 
had  pulled  the  bell,  and  his  spare  figure  faced  her  in  the  door- 
way before  she  could  draw  her  breath.  "  I  came  to  see  Mrs. 
Leroy !  "  she  faltered  in  her  amazement. 

"I  am  very  sorry  that  she  can  see  nobody,"  he  said,  cere- 
monious in  his  politeness.  "  Mr.  Leroy  had  a  bad  accident 
the  day  before  yesterday— he  is  not  exp)ected  to  live !  " 

"What!" 

The  shocked  horror  of  her  tone  told  him  how  baldly  he  had 
expressed  it  better  than  anything  else  could  have  done.  He 
felt  a  little  impatient  with  her  for  her  concern,  as  with  an 
outsider  who  had  no  right  to  hinder  anyone  connected  with 
Fate  just  now,  even  with  enquiries.  What  did  it  matter  to 
Patricia  Mornington  that  Eldred  Leroy  might  be  dying  ?  His 
personality  was  as  far  removed  from  her  existence  as  one 
planet  from  another. 

"  It  happened  two  days  ago,"  he  repeated,  courteously 
still,  but  in  as  concise  a  form  of  words  as  possible.     '*  He 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  179 

was  knocked  off  his  bicycle  by  a  runaway  horse  and  run  over. 
Mrs.  Leroy  has  not  left  him  since — he  may  not  recover." 

"  How  dreadful !  "  She  spoke  under  her  breath,  as  if  the 
realisation  stunned  her.  In  her  mind  she  saw  the  pretty, 
perfect  home  she  had  half  dreaded  to  think  of,  as  suddenly 
desolate.     "  How  is  Mrs.  Leroy  ?  " 

"  As  well  as  anyone  can  expect  under  the  circumstances," 
he  returned  impatiently.  It  struck  him  as  a  foolish  question, 
utterly  superfluous,  and  his  irritability  made  him  openly 
ironical.  Yet  had  it  been  one  of  Fate's  Sunnington  friends 
who  stood  on  the  doorstep  craving  for  news  of  her,  he  would 
have  been  more  merciful  and  kindly,  almost  sympathetic. 
It  was  only  to  this  triumphantly  beautiful  woman,  aglow  with 
health  and  vitality,  that  he  turned  hard.  The  evidences  of 
her  successful  life  which  always  seemed  to  background  her, 
filled  him  with  a  pitiful  resentment  for  Fate,  threatened  with 
the  loss  of  her  one  treasure — Patricia's  very  clothes,  the  motor 
waiting  her  bidding  at  the  gate,  were  all  so  many  aggravations 
of  contrast. 

"  I  am  very,  very  sorry  1  "  she  said  simply,  and  then  feeling 
the  antagonism  of  his  attitude,  her  own  spontaneous  kindness 
froze  in  his  presence.  "  I  suppose  there  is  nothing  I — anyone 
— can  do  ?  "  she  said  blankly. 

"Nothing,  thank  you." 

"  Will  you  say  I  called — when  Mrs.  Leroy  can  attend  to 
anything  beyond  the  sick-room  ? "  she  suggested,  taking  a 
card  from  her  case  and  offering  it  to  him.  The  very  name 
seemed  to  him  ironically  assertive — "Patricia  Momington," 
and  the  address  in  Piccadilly. 

"  I  shall  come  down  again " 

"  There  is  really  nothing  you  can  do !  "  he  interrupted 
pointedly,  though  still  with  an  unimpeachable  manner, 
"  Mrs.  Leroy  has  many  friends  and  they  have  all  recognised 
that  the  only  kindness  they  can  do  her  is  not  to  ring  the 
bell ! " 

"  I  see.  But  as  I  can  have  news  in  no  other  way,  I  shall 
come  down  all  the  same,"  said  Patricia  quietly.  "  I  can  go 
to  the  back  door,  if  that  will  be  less  disturbing ! " 

She  turned  and  walked  down  the  little  gravel  path  to  the 
gate,  apparently  unaware  of  the  fact  that  he  had  left  his  self- 
imposed  position  of  warder,  and  was  following  her.  The 
long  sweep  of  her  gown,  indeed,  kept  him  at  a  regal  distance, 

12* 


i8o  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

and  prevented  conversation.  She  felt,  with  feminine 
savagery,  that  she  was  glad  of  such  a  guard. 

"  Allow  me !  "  said  Vaughan's  voice  at  her  shoulder  as  she 
paused  at  the  gate,  and  his  lean  strong  hand  shot  past  her  and 
opened  it  for  her.  She  bowed  without  speaking,  then  with  a 
last  impulse  she  turned  before  getting  into  the  motor  and 
looked  up  at  him  with  the  brown  eyes  that  were  always  so 
kindly  anxious  to  help. 

"  If  there  were  anything  that  I  could  do,"  she  said  slowly, 
the  words  a  rather  proud  effort,  "  I  should  trust  to  you  to  let 
me  know,  Mr.  Vaughan.  I  think,  as  Mrs.  Leroy's  friend,  you 
will  understand  how  great  a  pleasure  it  would  be  to  me.  I 
am  quite  helpless,  of  course,  if  you  choose  to  shut  me  out,  as 
I  am  not  so  selfish  as  to  worry  her  with  letters." 

If  it  had  not  seemed  that  she  had  so  much  of  good  for- 
tune, and  Fate  so  little,  he  might  have  met  her  more  gener- 
ously. As  it  was  the  almost  imperceptible  pause  she  made 
went  unrewarded.  He  raised  his  hat,  the  cold  eyes  hardly 
meeting  her  own,  and  she  drove  back  to  town  telling  herself 
that  her  vague  dislike  of  this  man  was  quite  justified.  She 
had  been  ready  with  the  olive  branch  in  Fate  Leroy's  time 
of  trouble,  and  he  had  met  her  with  what  seemed  open 
enmity. 

"  He  is  cruel  by  nature,  I  suppose,"  pondered  Patricia, 
almost  forgetting  to  shrink  from  the  overwhelming  solidity  of 
South  Kensington  in  her  troubled  absorption — "  And  he  has 
become  warped  and  hard.  Perhaps  that  is  not  his  fault — 
but  I  do  not  like  him  any  the  more  for  it !  " 

At  her  own  door  she  encountered  Caryl  Lexiter,  a  very 
light  overcoat  over  his  evening  dress,  and  a  smile  of  easy 
greeting  in  his  eyes. 

"  Lady  Vera  has  asked  me  to  dinner — you  will  have  had 
too  much  of  me  by  the  time  you  go  to  bed !  "  he  said. 
"Won't  you  be  very  late?     It  is  half-past  seven  already!" 

"  I  won't  spoil  dinner  for  you — ^you  need  not  be  afraid  ! " 
said  Patricia,  smiling  back  into  the  friendly  eyes.  There  was 
something  comforting  and  human  in  Lexiter's  very  inches 
after  the  discomfort  and  rebuflF  of  the  afternoon.  She  found 
silent  satisfaction  in  his  presence,  and  the  instinctive  know- 
ledge a  woman  has  when  a  man  finds  her  desirable.  It  was 
absurd,  but  she  could  not  picture  Caryl  turning  her  away 
from  any  friend's  door  without  some  scrap  of  consolation, 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  i8i 

and  the  foolish  cxintrast  to  Vaughan  warmed  her  heart  to 
Lexiter, 

"  Have  you  seen  anyone  ?  Heard  any  news  ?  "  she  said 
wistfully,  pausing  on  the  lowest  stair.  Even  there,  with  the 
advantage  of  ascending,  his  head  was  on  a  higher  level  than 
her  own. 

"  I'll  tell  you  all  that  at  dinner,"  he  said  with  his  easy  air 
of  confidence.  "  Oh,  by  the  way,  there  is  one  thing  we  heard 
for  which  you  will  be  sorry " 

She  almost  shrank.  "  Not  more  bad  news  ?  I  heard  of  a 
most  dreadful  accident  this  afternoon,  and  it  shook  me. 
Well,  go  on." 

"  We  called  on  the  Duke  of  London,  and  learned  that  he 
has  a  turn  for  the  worse." 

"  The  Duke  !  "  Her  brown  eyes  clouded  despondently. 
"  I  am  unlucky — all  my  friends  seem  in  misfortune.  Is  he — 
very  ill  ?  " 

Lexiter  nodded  carelessly.  **  Influenza,  I  think.  Do  run 
along.  Nougat !     You  will  really  be  late." 

But  his  effort  to  rouse  her  dignity  by  treating  her  like  a 
little  girl  met  with  no  reward.  Patricia  turned  slowly  and 
went  upstairs  with  a  step  as  heavy  as  her  heart.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  all  the  best  in  life  by  which  she  held  was  being 
withdrawn  from  her  when  she  most  needed  counsel. 


1 82 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"  A  passive  life  was  hers, — to  yearn 

Against  a  passive  Heaven, — 
For  uncommitted  sins  to  learn 

How  sweet  to  be  forgiven, — 
Was  all  she  knew  of  need  to  earn 

The  '  Seventy  times  seven.'  " 

"  But  sometimes,  when  the  noon  would  seem 
To  drag,  and  stay,  and  wait. 
And  sometimes  in  the  sunset's  gleam 

When  day  was  growing  late. 

She  rose  in  spirit  from  her  dream 

To  break  her  heart  on  fate." 

Monotony, 

The  bed-chamber  was  so  quiet  that  the  flutter  of  the  curtains 
at  the  window  became  an  important  thing  in  the  routine  of 
sUence,  and  Fate  found  the  faint  ticking  of  the  clock  on  the 
mantelpiece  such  an  irritation  that  she  had  it  carried  into 
the  dressing-room.  It  seemed  in  the  days  of  Eldred's  danger 
that  all  ordinary,  active  life  was  suddenly  removed  from  her, 
or  at  least  that  sound  had  ceased;  for  the  very  passing  of 
carts  in  the  roadway  was  lessened,  to  her  fancy — not  only 
muffled  by  the  ominous  straw  before  the  gate,  but  surely 
less  in  number  than  had  been  usual.  She  seemed  to  have 
lived  under  the  new  conditions  of  her  life  for  so  long,  that 
she  could  hardly  imagine  it  detached  from  the  confines  of 
the  sick-room,  and  the  long,  flat,  colourless  days  stretched 
backwards  through  her  memory  in  an  endless  procession, 
though  in  counting  them  it  was  only  a  week  at  the  outside 
since  they  had  laid  him  down  on  the  bed  from  which  he  had 
never  moved  of  himself,  even  to  turn  his  heavy  head.     Even 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  183 

the  more  vivid  interlude  of  the  operation,  which  the  doctors 
decided  was  advisable  after  consultation,  did  not  seem  a 
thing  of  great  importance  once  it  was  over;  they  talked,  to 
her  outward  comprehension,  of  removing  a  clot  of  blood,  and 
trephined  the  skull,  but  it  was  only  Eldred's  body  that  they 
handled.  If  she  winced,  it  was  almost  unconsciously;  she 
was,  even  then,  waiting  for  his  mind  to  awake  as  the  result 
of  the  operation,  and  when  he  still  lay  there  oblivious  of  her 
it  seemed  only  one  more  dull  pang  of  pain  in  the  whole  ex- 
perience. 

She  sat  in  the  old  attitude  of  patient  watching,  her  hands 
clasped  on  her  knee,  her  emphatic  grey  eyes,  which  never 
changed  their  colour,  resting  as  if  in  contemplation  upon  the 
unconscious  mask  that  did  not  know  her — that  had  never 
known  her  since  he  went  away  that  morning  a  week  ago; 
but,  as  a  fact,  her  thoughts  were  almost  as  far  away  as 
Eldred.  Her  eyes  had  grown  to  hold  an  inexhaustible  en- 
durance, and  had  the  composure  of  something  which  has 
settled  to  wait  for  an  indefinite  period.  She  was  always 
waiting — for  Eldred  to  come  back  to  her.  The  doctors 
who  attended  him  had  not  yet  asked  themselves  definitely 
what  change  would  alter  her  face  if  she  found  her  vigil  pro- 
longed until  the  Judgment  Day. 

Events  took  place,  even  now,  in  Fate  Leroy's  physical 
existence,  though  they  did  not  matter  to  her  at  all,  it 
seemed.  Eldred's  own  people  came  at  intervals,  stole  softly 
up  the  stairs,  stood  and  looked  at  the  bandaged  head  and 
the  unrecognising  face.  They  spoke  to  his  wife,  too,  gently 
and  kindly — even  cheerfully  and  hopefully — and  she 
answered  them  without  a  tremor.  Then  they  went  away. 
There  was  nothing  more  that  could  be  done. 

Fate  had  never  left  the  room  for  more  than  a  few  hours 
for  sleep,  while  the  nurse  watched  and  waited  in  her  place; 
or  during  the  day  she  might  go  into  the  dressing-room  for 
her  meals,  or  would  stand  in  the  passage  outside  the  door  to 
speak  to  anyone  whom  it  might  be  necessary  to  see.  There 
was  an  aunt  of  Eldred's  staying  in  the  house — the  same  whom 
they  had  visited  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  year,  and  who 
directed  the  household;  but  Fate  was  still  to  be  consulted, 
and  they  came  to  her  for  this  or  that  decision,  which  she 
gave  as  collectedly  as  she  had  ever  done.  It  was  not  that 
she  had  any  reluctance  to  leave  the  empty  shell  upon  the 


1 84  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

bed,  which  was  only  a  body  now  without  intelligence ;  she 
had  no  material  desire  to  linger  by  what  had  once  been  as 
flesh  of  her  flesh  and  bone  of  her  bone,  but  she  was  always 
haunted  by  the  fear  that  if  she  left  him  for  long,  Eldred — 
the  Eldred  she  craved  for — might  come  back  in  her  absence, 
and  so  she  might  miss  him.  That  he  might  only  come  back 
to  go  away  for  ever,  she  did  not  even  say  to  herself;  she 
watched  the  closed  eyes,  those  blank  windows  out  of  which 
the  soul  might  look  at  her  once  again,  and  she  waited  for 
him  to  give  at  least  some  sign,  though  it  only  ratified  a  tryst 
with  her  beyond  the  gates  of  death. 

The  door  bell  had  been  first  muffled,  and  then  discon- 
nected. It  was  an  electric  bell,  and  Gerald  Vaughan  had 
taken  the  liberty  of  practising  a  very  simple  little  operation 
upon  it,  which — as  he  explained  to  Miss  Leroy — was  easily 
nullified  again  when  necessity  for  its  silence  was  over.  Per- 
haps the  vision  of  a  tali  woman  on  the  doorstep  vexed  his 
soul,  or  perhaps  he  doubted  his  own  assertion  that  Fate's 
friends  would  have  the  good  sense  and  unselfishness  not  to 
enquire  too  often;  at  any  rate,  it  was  the  day  after  Patricia 
had  learned  of  the  accident  that  Gerald  disconnected  the 
wires,  and  after  that,  there  being  no  bell  to  ring,  callers 
went  round  quietly  to  the  back  entrance  and  asked  news  of 
the  servants.  A  grim  amusement  lightened  Vaughan's 
anxious  face  once  when  he  first  learned  this.  He  had  taken 
Miss  Momington  at  her  word — if  she  came  down  again  she 
would  be  forced  to  do  as  she  had  suggested,  and  go  to  the 
back  door. 

When  Fate's  neighbours  and  friends  came  so  softly  over 
the  straw,  and  round  the  familiar  garden  way,  they  left  at 
least  goodwill  and  offers  of  help  behind,  and  they  generally 
saw  someone  who  could  give  them  news.  In  the  dining- 
room  sat  a  beautiful  old  lady  with  silver  curls,  which  she 
tied  up  with  a  black  velvet,  and  a  face  like  delicately  modelled 
old  china.  She  was  always  knitting  with  black  mittened 
hands,  and  there  was  a  little  old  Bible  so  constantly  at  her 
elbow  that  it  was  impossible  to  dissociate  her  from  it.  Mrs. 
Carr  or  Mrs.  Rodney  would  come  in  as  if  to  their  own  rooms 
and  sit  down  with  her  for  a  little  talk,  if  they  came  in  the 
morning ;  but  if  they  came  in  the  later  afternoon  they  always 
found  Gerald  Vaughan.  He  was  in  the  house  soon  after 
five,  and  he  never  left  it  until  ten  or  eleven.     Miss  Leroy 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  185 

had  become  so  accustomed  to  his  presence  that  it  would  have 
troubled  her  more  to  miss  him  than  to  lose  one  of  the  ser- 
vants. She  even  found  it  a  relief  to  confide  her  fears  to 
him,  for  to  the  old  Hope  is  a  less  tenacious  guest  than  to 
those  whose  years  make  them  "  incredulous  of  despair."  It 
seemed  as  if  the  suspended  household  were  worked  by  these 
two  incongruous  personalities,  and  the  central  figures  upstairs 
were  shut  off  into  another  world. 

"  I  am  afraid,  my  dear  Mr.  Vaughan,  that  he  is  weaker !  " 
Miss  Leroy  would  whisper,  easing  her  frightened  heart  by 
what  she  would  not  have  said  even  to  the  doctor.  "  I  went 
and  looked  at  him  once  to-day.  I  see  a  great  change  in 
him !  " 

Vaughan's  mouth,  under  the  ragged  moustache,  writhed  a 
little  as  if  with  pain.  If  he  suffered  in  his  intercourse  with 
the  irmocent  little  old  lady,  she  certainly  never  knew  it.  His 
irritable,  capricious  temper  never  betrayed  itself  to  her,  and 
she  found  him  courteous,  and  kind,  and  infinitely  helpful  in 
the  mutual  trouble. 

"  What  does  the  doctor  say  ?  "  he  suggested,  sitting  down 
to  have  tea  with  her,  as  he  always  did  on  his  arrival. 

"Nothing  at  all — won't  give  an  opinion.  That  is  what 
frightens  me !  " 

"  It  might  just  as  well  cheer  you  up !  "  said  Vaughan.  "  If 
there  were  anything  bad  to  say,  you  may  be  sure  a  medical 
man  would  say  it !  " 

"  And  Fate  will  break  down  under  the  strain — I  know  she 
will !  " 

For  a  minute  Vaughan  did  not  answer.  In  his  mind  he 
saw  the  quiet  black  figure  watching  by  the  bed,  with  eyes 
that  waited  and  waited  for  her  husband,  and  saw  no  man  in 
all  the  world  beside.  It  seemed  to  him  that  during  those 
past  days  in  which  he  also  had  waited  to  serve  the  woman 
he — might  have  loved,  he  had  learned  the  distance  to>  which 
a  completed  union  can  thrust  an  outsider.  He  had  never 
been  so  far  from  Fate  as  now,  when  the  conditions  that  held 
them  apart  might  at  any  moment  be  removed.  He  realised 
it  ...  .  and  his  service  was  none  the  less  perfectly  given 
because  it  was  quite  without  hope.  She  did  not  want  him,  there 
was  no  room  for  him  in  her  life.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he 
dropped  quietly  outside  of  it,  and  became  all  the  more  her 
friend  for  some  inherent  honour  of  his  manhood. 


1 86  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

"  I  think  I  will  go  and  see  Fate  for  a  minute,  and  just 
judge  for  myself  if  she  is  breaking  down,"  he  said,  reassur- 
ingly, setting  down  his  empty  cup.  "  Has  she  had  tea 
yet?" 

"  Not  yet.  I  thought  you  would  like  to  carry  it  up  to 
her." 

"  I  should.     Has  anybody  called  to-day  ?  " 

"  Half  a  dozen  people  came  to  the  back  door.  Every- 
body is  so  kind !  I  do  think  it  takes  a  time  like  this  to 
bring  out  the  best  in  human  nature." 

"  Perhaps  it  does,"  said  Vaughan  slowly.  "  Some  human 
nature,  at  least." 

"  Mrs.  Rodney  brought  those  grapes  this  morning — in  case 
dear  Eldred  were  by  chance  allowed  fruit  as  yet."  (Miss 
Leroy  always  spoke  of  people  who  were  at  all  afflicted  as 
"  dear."  It  was  one  of  the  trials  of  Vaughan's  intercourse 
with  her,  but  he  bore  it  much  better  than  he  did  his  sister's 
peculiarities.)  "  Of  course  they  axe  no  use  for  that,  but  do 
you  think  Fate  would  eat  some?     They  will  only  spoil." 

"  I  think  she  shall  eat  some,"  said  Vaughan  conclusively, 
breaking  the  white  Muscats  with  his  long,  nervous  fingers 
and  adding  them  to  the  choice  collection  he  was  making 
on  a  plate — two  slices  of  bread  and  butter,  a  piece  of  toast, 
and  a  large  portion  of  cake.  It  looked  a  feast  for  an  ogre 
rather  than  a  nurse  whose  appetite  is  lost  in  a  sick-room. 
He  caught  up  the  daily  paper  as  he  passed  the  sideboard 
where  it  was  lying,  and  tucked  it  with  cat-like  deftness  under 
his  arm.  Vaughan's  step  was  cat-like  also,  and  he  had 
hardly  made  a  sound  as  he  arrived  before  the  closed  door 
of  the  sick-room;  yet  Fate's  ears  must  have  been  preter- 
naturaJly  sharpened,  for  she  opened  the  door  before  he  could 
tap,  and  stood  just  in  the  doorway,  looking  at  him  with  a 
smile  that  was  absently  friendly. 

"  Thank  you,  Gerald  I  But  I  don't  want  all  this  pile  of 
things  to  eat !  "  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

It  seemed  to  cost  Vaughan  some  sort  of  an  effort  before 
he  spoke ;  yet  he  answered  her  in  the  half  whimsical  manner 
of  their  ordinary  converse.  Perhaps  he  did  not  himself 
know  how  hungrily  his  eyes  were  resting  on  her  tired  face  all 
the  while. 

"  Miss  Leroy  is  making  herself  luxuriously  miserable  over 
your  lack  of  appetite,  so  I  must  really  beg  you  to  make  an 


AS   YE  ■'HAVE   SOWN.  187 

effort.  She  has  already  endowed  you  with  a  break-down 
and  an  illness,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  she  is  not  in  fancy 
designing  your  tombstone !  " 

"  1  know  " — a  faint  but  quite  easy  smile  lifted  the  drooping 
red  mouth.  "  It  is  a  joke  of  Eldred's  that  Aunt  Annelie 
always  orders  the  wreath  for  the  funeral  if  anyone's  little 
finger  aches.  Tell  her  that  you  thought  me  looking  good 
for  many  years,  please,  Gerald." 

She  took  the  paper  from  under  his  arm  as  she  spoke,  and 
selecting  a  slice  of  bread  and  butter  from  the  plateful,  put 
it  into  the  saucer  and  relieved  him  of  the  teacup  also. 

There  was  a  moment's  indefinite  pause. 

"  I  really  wish  you  would  try  to  eat.  Fate !  "  he  said,  with 
a  touch  of  the  old  restive  authority  in  his  manner.  It  had 
been  part  of  her  system  with  Vaughan  to  let  him  lord  it  over 
her.     She  only  shook  her  head  very  slightly  now. 

"  I  would  if  I  could." 

"  Eat  some  of  the  grapes  at  least — fruit  is  good  for  every- 
one." 

"  Very  well,"  she  said  passively,  and  took  the  cool  berries 
in  her  hand  with  a  submission  that  stirred  his  blood,  and 
almost  took  him  off  his  guard.  He  looked  down  on  her 
bright  head,  half  turned  even  now  to  catch  the  least  stir  in 
the  sick-room — turned  away  from  him,  as  ever,  and  towards 
Eldred! — and  all  his  impotent  manhood  rose  up  and  longed 
to  comfort  her.  He  wanted  it  so  much  that  the  yearning 
seemed  to  thrill  the  mental  atmosphere  and  made  her  turn 
to  him  again  with  something  that  was  a  vague  sense  of 
gratitude  in  her  passionless  grey  eyes. 

"  I  see  a  slight — a  very  slight  change  this  afternoon, 
Gerald  I  "  she  said  below  her  breath.  "  So  does  the  nurse. 
The  doctors  will  not  come  again  before  night,  however,  so 
we  cannot  be  sure." 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  fetch  them  ?  " 

"  It  is  no  good.  I  thought  of  that,  but  I  know  they  would 
both  be  out  at  this  hour.  I  might  send  a  message,  but  I  am 
afraid  of  being  needlessly  selfish  and  bringing  them  here  for 
nothing.     He  has  lain  like  this  for  so  long." 

"  All  the  more  reason  he  should  change  now — let  us  hope 
for  the  better !  " 

"  It  might  be — the  other  way !  "  she  breathed,  and  sud- 
denly her  controlled  face  woke  up  with  a  passing  spasm  of 


i88  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

anguish  that  swept  across  it  like  a  visible  cloud.  Into  the 
wide-open  grey  of  her  eyes  the  pain  seemed  to  spring  and 
pass  like  a  flame  of  fire,  the  red  lips  drew  into  a  tight  line 
for  an  instant,  and  her  whole  figure  shrank  as  if  from  some 
appalling  blow.  Mechanically  he  threw  out  his  hands  as  if 
to  protect  her,  and  then  realising  his  own  helplessness,  and 
something  else,  they  dropped  to  his  side  and  he  stood  and 
merely  looked  at  her,  feeling  the  bitterness  of  a  pain  that 
was  too  complex  for  him  to  even  face  and  argue  with  it. 
For  in  the  same  moment  that  the  agony  crossed  her  face  and 
passed,  leaving  the  old-trained  patience,  he  saw  the  ghastly 
temptation  before  him  to  be  glad  of  her  loss  rather  than 
sorry.  Just  for  an  instant  the  ignoble  nature  that  makes  a 
man's  mind  seem  ugly  to  himself  marred  the  feeling  he  had 
schooled  his  heart  to  give  her — then  it  was  gone  again,  and 
he  could  stretch  his  hands  to  her  in  reality,  without  feeling 
them  treacherous. 

"  Don't  say  that — don't  think  it !  "  he  said  huskily.  "  You 
mustn't,  you  know — or  you  really  might  break  down.  It's  all 
right — ^we'll  stand  by  you." 

His  hands  found  one  of  hers  blindly,  and  held  it  as  im- 
personally as  he  might  have  done  a  child's.  The  next  instant 
she  had  turned  from  him  and  gone  into  the  sick-room,  again 
fancying  a  movement,  and  he  was  walking  downstairs,  breath- 
ing hard  with  a  feeling  of  physical  exhaustion  as  definite  as 
if  he  had  been  ruruiing.  He  was  surprised  to  find,  indeed, 
as  he  passed  his  handkerchief  across  his  forehead,  that  it 
was  wet. 

Fate  walked  back  to  the  bedside,  forgetting  the  man  who 
was  only  second-best  to  her  the  instant  her  eyes  fell  on  the 
bandaged  face  on  the  pillow.  Only  such  close  scrutiny  as  hers 
could  have  detected  a  difference  in  it,  but  there  was  some- 
thing— a  relaxing  of  the  set  features,  if  nothing  more,  a 
shade  more  colour  in  the  bloodless  lips,  that  made  her  feel 
that  a  change  was  coming.  She  sat  down  and  forgot  to  drink 
her  tea  until  it  was  cold;  but  no  increase  of  symptoms  took 
place,  and  at  last,  with  a  sigh,  she  opened  the  paper  and 
began  to  read  without  taking  in  a  word,  until  a  paragraph  in 
the  Court  and  Personal  news  dimly  forced  itself  on  her  com- 
prehension. 

"  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  London  is  lying  seriously  ill  at 
his  residence  in  Piccadilly." 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  189 

"  How  sorry  Patricia  will  be !  "  thought  Fate  indifferently, 
as  of  a  being  a  great  way  off  whose  affairs  could  not  touch 
her.  "  I  think  he  was  the  only  friend  she  had  in  that  life." 
She  read  another  paragraph,  but  it  meant  nothing.  Then, 
with  a  feeling  of  the  necessity  to  pull  herself  together,  she 
swallowed  the  bread  and  butter  and  the  grapes  and  drank 
the  cold  tea,  and,  turning  the  sheet,  forced  herself  to  under- 
stand the  words  of  the  Leader,  reading  very  slowly.  But 
her  thoughts,  though  they  told  her  quite  connectedly  now 
that  the  Duke  of  London  was  lying  seriously  ill  at  his  resi- 
dence in  Piccadilly,  declined  to  go  further,  and  she  found 
herself  saying  that  Patricia  would  be  sorry — the  Duke  of 
London  was  seriously  ill — Patricia  would  be  sorry — alter- 
nately. 

She  had  not  noticed  that  she  had  left  the  door  ajar  when 
she  hurried  back  to  the  bed,  perhaps  thinking  that  Vaughan 
would  close  it  for  her,  nor  did  she  see  it  pushed  a  little 
further  open  and  the  white  cat  slowly  squeeze  himself  through. 
For  days  Phlumpie  had  been  trying  to  discover  what  lay 
behind  that  door  in  the  only  room  which  had  ever  been 
refused  to  him,  and  where  his  master  was.  Now  was  his 
opportunity,  and  he  trotted  noiselessly  across  the  room, 
jumped  lightly  on  to  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and,  walking  up 
beside  that  silent  form,  lay  down  in  the  attitude  of  a  couchant 
lion,  his  broad  head  just  touching  one  of  the  immovable 
hands  lying  outside  on  the  coverlet.  Fate  had  not  seen  him 
come,  or  jump,  for  the  paper  was  between  her  and  the  bed ; 
her  first  knowledge  of  him  was  a  little  rustle  of  the  clothes, 
and  she  turned  and  almost  sprang  upon  him,  checking  the 
cry  in  her  throat,  and  all  her  pulses  seeming  to  close  with  a 
throb  of  raw  pain  upon  her  heart.  But  before  she  could 
snatch  the  cat  from  the  bed  her  glance  reached  Eldred's  face 
and  her  movement  was  arrested.  For  he  was  looking  at  her 
with  eyes  that  were  again  conscious,  though  they  had 
come  back  from  somewhere  such  a  long  way  off  that  he 
was  bewildered  and  could  hardly  recognise  his  surroundings. 
His  lips  moved  faintly,  and  he  tried  to  touch  the  cat's  head 
with  his  nerveless  hand.  His  face  was  the  face  of  a  strayed 
child,  looking  for  assurance  that  somebody  who  is  reliable 
is  near  by — but  the  soul  had  come  back.  It  was  no  longer 
Eldred's  body  alone  that  was  left  to  her. 

Fate  slipped  to  her  knees  gently  beside  the  bed,  and  with- 


190  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

out  actually  touching  him  laid  her  arms  about  him,  answer- 
ing the  living  eyes  in  the  awakening  face. 

"What  is  it,  Sweetheart?  I  am  here — with  you,"  she  said. 
The  words  rounded  off  the  whole  universe  to  their  mutual 

existence. 

****** 

"I  shall  always  keep  Phlumpie — even  when  he  is  so  old 
and  blind  and  deaf  that  people  tell  me  he  ought  to  be 
destroyed !  "  said  Fate  quite  seriously,  looking  at  Vaughan 
across  the  moonlit  porch.  It  was  the  first  time  for  many 
days  that  she  had  breathed  the  outside  air  save  from  the 
window,  but  she  had  run  down  to  say  good-night  to  him  on 
the  nurse's  assurance  that  she  might  safely  do  so. 

"  I  hope  if  the  poor  beast's  life  were  a  misery  to  him  that 
you  would  not  be  so  selfish  as  to  keep  him  alive ! "  said 
Vaughan,  his  man's  common-sense  a  little  outraged  by  her  sen- 
timent. "  I  most  devoutly  believe  in  the  survival  of  the  fittest. 
Modern  science  is  making  the  world  too  full  of  the  halt  and 
the  blind,  even  amongst  human  beings.  Why  this  canonisa- 
tion of  Phlumpie?" 

"  He  was  the  first  thing  that  Eldred  realised — next  to  me," 
said  Fate,  adding,  a  trifle  jealously — "  His  eyes  saw  me  first ! 
Then  he  tried  to  touch  Phlumpie's  head." 

"  Whereupon  Phlumpie  becomes  a  household  deity ;  as 
much  to  be  worshipped  as  if  he  had  lived  in  Egypt  centuries 
since!  How  utterly  inconsequent  women  arel  You  look  as 
if  you  w^anted  a  good  night's  rest  after  all  this  excitement. 
Go  to  bed  soon,  won't  you  ?  " 

"I  don't  feel  as  if  I  were  very  tired — ^nowl"  she  said, 
with  a  long  sweet  breath  of  the  night  air.  "  It  is  a  very 
beautiful  world,  Gerald  I  Only  while  we  are  so  busy  think- 
ing of  the  pain  and  the  sorrow  all  round  us  we  forget  to  be 
thankful." 

"  The  Power  that  ordained  the  sorrow  and  the  pain  can 
hardly  blame  us  for  being  forgetful  of  less  assertive  details 
of  the  universe !  "  said  Vaughan  bitterly. 

"And  there  is  a  lot  of  sorrow  and  pain  ....  How 
hard  it  is  to  realise  that  other  people  are  in  the  darkest  part 
of  the  night  still  when  one  gets  out  into  the  moonlight  a 
little  oneself!  Do  you  know  I  saw  the  illness  of  a  man  of 
whom  I  have  often  heard  lately,  and  seemed  almost  to  know 
ad  seccaad  hand,  and  it  meant  nothing  to  me  but  *  form  of 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  ipi 

words  until  about  an  hour  ago.  Then  I  found  that  I  was 
alive  enough  again  to  be  sorry." 

"Who  was  it?"  Vaughan  asked  as  he  lit  a  cigarette  to 
accompany  him  home  to  Ashingham. 

"  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  London  is  lying  seriously  ill  at 
his  residence  in  Piccadilly,"  said  Fate,  repeating  the  para- 
graph which  she  had  gradually  forced  into  her  memory,  as 
if  it  would  not  now  be  effaced. 

"  I  dare  say  it  is  not  true,"  said  Vaughan  consolingly. 
"  The  papers  so  often  exaggerate,  and  no  journal  is  scrupulous 
when  it  is  eager  for  news.  He  probably  has  a  cold,  and 
they  are  short  of  copy." 

"  I  will  hope  so,  anyhow.  He  is  a  great  friend  of  Patricia 
Mornington." 

A  curious  look  flitted  over  Vaughan's  face  for  a  minute, 
vaguely  reminiscent.  "  She  called  here  one  day  last  week," 
he  remarked.  "  I  told  her  what  had  happened.  She  has 
not  been  since,  as  far  as  I  know." 

"That  is  unlike  her,"  said  Fate,  innocently,  not  guessing 
the  encounter  at  the  door.  "  But  possibly  they  have  gone 
out  of  town.  Still,  she  might  have  written.  Don't  you  feel 
a  little  resentful  with  people  if  they  disappoint  you  as  to  their 
interest  in  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  never  expect  people  to  be  interested  in  me ! "  was 
Vaughan's  parting  assurance,  with  his  head  in  the  air,  and 
the  long  spare  figure  vanished  in  the  darkness  along  the  road 
to  the  station,  carrying  somewhere  in  his  conscience  a  little 
pin-prick  with  regard  to  the  woman  whose  interest  Fate  Leroy 
thought  had  flagged.  Not  that  Vaughan  acknowledged  that 
he  had  been  in  the  wrong  in  practically  requesting  her  to 
come  down  no  more  to  enquire,  for  he  thought  it  common- 
sense  and  kindness  to  stay  away  since  she  could  do  nothing. 
He  was  generally  very  certain  that  he  was  in  the  right  in  his 
own  line  of  action,  but  the  unexpected  result  of  Fate  think- 
ing herself  neglected  by  Patricia  was  a  situation  for  which 
he  had  not  looked.  He  could  not  actually  say  that  her  non- 
appearance was  the  result  of  his  advice — indeed,  she  had 
plainly  asserted  that  she  should  come  again  in  spite  of  that 
— but  he  acknowledged  to  himself  that  he  had  not  been 
encouraging.  Well,  let  her  stay  away,  instead  of  intruding 
a  pointless  sympathy  into  an  already  harassed  household ! 
There  was  quite  enough  to  do  without  answering  Miss  Mom- 


192  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

ington's  enquiries.  He  was  not  in  the  least  sorry  to  hear 
that  the  man  whom  Fate  called  her  only  friend  was  probably 
out  of  her  reach  also;  the  fact  that  it  was  the  Duke  of 
London  merely  accentuated  his  theory  that  her  sphere  and 
that  of  the  household  he  had  just  left  lay  far  apart.  She 
had  better  spend  her  idle  time  in  ringing  the  Duke's  bell,  and 
asking  after  him. 

He  found  that  his  sister  had  not  yet  gone  to  bed  when 
he  reached  Ashingham,  and  obser\'ed  with  a  distracted  eye 
that  a  new  blue  bow  had  made  its  appearance  in  the  centre 
of  each  looped  curtain  in  the  drawing-room.  Vaughan  waged 
a  bitter  war  against  blue  bows,  and  discouraged  his  sister's 
love  of  colour  in  every  way.  The  offending  decoration  did 
not  make  him  more  sociably  inclined,  and  after  stalking  into 
the  drawing-room,  where  Miss  Vaughan  was  reading  Marie 
Corelli's  last  book,  he  was  about  to  stalk  out  again  when 
she  stopped  him. 

"Well!" 

"I  did  not  expect  you  to  sit  up  for  me!  "  said  Vaughan, 
purposely  misunderstanding  her  desire  for  news. 

"  You  might  at  least  stop  and  tell  me  how  they  all  a.re 
since  you  do  find  that  I  have  waited  up  to  hear !  "  said  Miss 
Vaughan,  in  aggravated  tones.  "ResJly,  Gerald,  it  is  not 
very  considerate  of  you!  The  instant  you  get  down  from 
your  work  you  go  flying  over  to  Sunnington,  and  you  never 
come  back  until  you  expect  me  to  have  gone  to  bed.  There 
is  nothing  for  you  to  do  over  there,  I  am  sure,  and  it  is 
simply  a  ridiculous  restlessness  that  takes  you." 

"  If  you  have  nothing  more  to  say  than  unnecessary  com- 
ments on  my  actions,  I  will  say  good-night  and  go  and 
smoke,"  said  Vaughan  icily,  his  hard  eyes  staring  at  the 
blue  bow  rather  than  the  sallow  face  of  the  lady  by  the  lamp. 

"  I  see  that  the  Duke  of  London  is  very  ill,"  remarked  Miss 
Vaughan,  grudgingly  changing  the  subject.  "  The  evening 
papers  say  that  it  is  influenza." 

Her  brother,  however,  kept  an  unpropitiated  silence,  nor 
did  he  mention  that  the  Duke  was  a  friend  of  Miss  Morning- 
ton,  whom  she  might  remember  had  called  on  her  with  Fate. 
He  knew  perfectly  well  that  Bertha  had  what  Fate  called 
"  the  Middle  Class  worship  of  the  Aristocracy,"  and  that  even 
the  slight  connection  of  knowing  someone  who  knew  the 
Duke  of  London  would  be  of  immense  interest  to  her — of 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  193 

much  more  interest  in  reality  than  the  household  at  Sunning- 
ton.  He  withheld  the  knowledge  he  possessed  with  de- 
liberate intention,  in  order  not  to  gratify  his  step-sister,  nor 
can  he  entirely  plead  the  blue  bow  as  an  excuse.  Gerald 
Vaughan  cannot  be  described  as  an  amiable  character,  or 
is  there  much  to  urge  in  his  defence.  He  was  simply  a 
highly-strung,  irritable  man,  struggling  just  now  with  a  base 
instinct,  and  trying  to  rise  to  the  nobility  of  his  ideals.  He 
felt  the  antagonism  of  his  surroundings  almost  intolerable  in 
the  stress  of  it. 

"You  might  at  least  tell  me  how  things  are  going  on  with 
the  Leroys !  "  Bertha  exclaimed  at  last,  as  if  driven  back 
to  her  original  grievance  by  his  lack  of  response. 

"Eldred  is  better — the  doctors  think  it  just  possible  he 
may  pull  through.  They  say  now  that  they  have  not  thought 
so  before,  even  though  the  clot  of  blood  under  the  skull 
was  successfully  removed." 

"  But  he  may  die  in  a  sudden  relapse,  I  suppose?" 

The  bald  statement  of  the  thing  they  had  all  pushed  from 
them  in  their  first  leave  to  hope,  made  Vaughan  wince,  almost 
visibly.  Something  else  in  the  inner  recesses  of  his  mind, 
also,  made  him  wish  with  all  his  tired  soul  that  his  sister  had 
not  put  it  into  words. 

"  There  is  no  need  to  be  a  bird  of  ill  omen !  "  he  said, 
sharply,  and  was  out  of  the  room  beyond  the  fine  torture  of 
her  comments  almost  before  she  had  gathered  breath  to  say 
that  Fate  Leroy  would  be  a  good-looking  widow,  and  to  feel 
herself  generous  again  for  the  admission.  Gerald  often 
denied  his  step-sister  the  self  congratulation  of  the  com- 
plaisant egoist  by  declining  to  be  her  audience. 

_He  shut  the  smoking-room  door  behind  him  with  a  de- 
cision that  she  understood  even  at  a  distance,  and  he  knew 
that  he  should  be  disturbed  no  more  that  night.  Yet  he 
did  not  sit  down  as  usual  with  a  sigh  of  relief  and  satisfac- 
tion to  read  and  smoke  in  contented  peace  for  an  hour  or  so 
before  going  to  bed.  There  was  a  restlessness  about  him 
that  suggested  pain  to-night.  He  crossed  aimlessly  to  the 
empty  fireplace  where  he  had  sternly  forbidden  a  row  of 
flower-pots  or  a  painted  fire  screen,  arguing  that  a  frost  was 
not  impossible  in  the  middle  of  Summer,  and  he  preferred  to 
be  able  to  light  a  fire  at  any  moment;  the  dead  grate 
struck  him  suddenly  with  a  sense  of  homelessness,  and  he 

13 


194  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

stared  resentfully  at  the  decent  tidiness  of  the  unlit  coals. 
The  homely  simile  was  not  unlike  a  man's  life  perhaps — the 
fire,  ready  laid,  capable  of  throwing  out  warmth  as  well  as 
another,  only  waiting  to  be  ignited,  and — no  one  to  strike 
the  match. 

How  absurd ! 

He  had  leaned  his  arms  on  the  mantelshelf  and  bent  his 
sleek  brown  head  above  them,  staring  at  the  empty  grate. 
Now,  with  a  conscious  effort  to  put  off  the  thought,  he  moved 
away  to  the  book-shelves  lining  the  walls  (Vaughan  had  col- 
lected a  heterogeneous  library,  not  in  solid  sets  or  editions, 
but  a  volume  here  and  there  as  the  caprice  took  him),  and 
laid  his  hand  uncertainly  on  the  first  book  that  came.  It 
was  an  American  work — poems,  little  known  in  England. 
He  turned  the  pages  without  intent. 

"  The  sweeping  up  the  hearth 
And  putting  love  away,  _^ 
We  shall  H81  Want  to  use  again 
Until  the  Judgment  Day  !  " 

He  flung  the  book  on  to  the  table  with  a  movement  like  a 
child  resenting  a  pain  it  cannot  understand.  Why  had  this 
thing  come  upon  him !  Life  was  hard  enough  surely  to  the 
average  man  without  wrestling  with  vile  passions  out  of  all 
proportion  to  everyday  life.  For  he  felt  himself  vile  because 
he  could  not  guard  every  breath  he  drew,  and  every  sug- 
gestion that  circumstances  forced  upon  him.  A  fastidious 
man  for  himself  and  others,  he  felt  his  own  degradation  if 
he  fell  below  his  secret  ideals.  His  standard  might  not  be 
a  high  one  as  regards  conventional  virtues,  but  it  allowed 
no  margin  for  treachery  or  dishonour. 

In  that  one  moment  when  Fate  Leroy  had  stood  before 
him,  all  the  dearer  for  her  flagging  vitality  and  her  watch 
in  the  sick-room,  had  he  not  longed  to  take  her  to  his  pro- 
tection, not  only  as  a  friend — not,  in  some  possible  future, 
as  the  second  in  her  life,  but  the  first?  For  a  minute  had 
he  not  washed  that  the  husband  for  whom  she  was  wearing 
out  body  and  soul  should  die  and  leave  him  a  free  path  to 
guard  and  cherish  her  instead?  It  was  the  natural  impulse 
of  the  man  to  thrust  his  strength  between  the  woman  and 
her  trouble.  Her  weakness  and  tire  made  her  intolerably 
appealing  to  his  manhood.     But  though  he  might  state  such 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  195 

a  circumstance  as  a  reason,  he  did  not  plead  it  as  an  excuse. 
He  had  set  his  teeth  and  turned  upon  his  heel,  as  upon  a 
former  occasion — the  last  time  she  had  been  in  his  house — 
praying  to  some  Power  he  seldom  approached  that  Eldred 
might  live,  and  that  he  himself  might  not  come  so  near  to 
Hell  again.  How  well  Christ  knew  the  inscrutable  ways  of 
God,  and  man's  weakness,  is  nowhere  more  noticeable  than 
in  that  pathetic  phrase  of  the  great  Prayer — 

"  Lead  us  vot  into  temptation." 

Again,  when  Bertha  had  forced  him  to  face  the  possibility 
of  a  relapse,  this  evening,  his  traitorous  pulses  had  answered 
the  suggestion  with  a  dull  leap  for  which  he  loathed  himself. 
Had  this  crisis  in  their  circumstances  not  occurred,  he  might 
have  drifted  safely  past  the  verge  of  danger,  and  never  put 
into  words  the  attraction  which  Fate  Leroy  had  for  him. 
Their  lives  could  have  run  on  side  by  side  for  years,  and 
never  driven  him  to  this  torture  of  self-examination.  He 
was  impatient  of  the  senseless  pain  and  the  inaction,  but  he 
was  too  honest  to  risk  such  thoughts  as  had  beset  him 
again.  It  had  to  be  faced  now — and  fought  down.  There 
was  this  point  in  his  favour,  that  he  could  not  conceive  him- 
self as  the  vanquished,  and  set  his  will  and  his  long  years 
of  training  to  give  up  even  the  semblance  of  a  stolen  hope. 
As  he  had  said,  he  had  never  had  the  things  he  wanted  in 
life;  that  should  stand  him  in  good  stead,  now  that  it  was 
a  case  of  voluntary  renunciation.  And,  though  he  did  not 
realise  it,  had  he  been  a  self-indulgent  man  like  Caryl 
Lexiter,  or  one  more  weakened  by  an  easy  life,  such  a  thing 
as  he  strove  to  do  would  have  been  morallv  impossible. 

"  After  all,  she  does  not  want  me ! "  he  said,  bitterly. 
"  She  has  never  given  me  one  thought  with  which  to  reproach 
herself.  That  does  not  make  it  any  easier,  however,  and 
it  is  cold  comfort.  I  thought  I  had  won  my  battle  after 
that  day  she  came  here  ....  but  T  never  looked  for  this 
— hideous — temptation.  It  is  a  drear}'  thing  to  '  sweep  up 
the  hearth ! ' " 

"  The  sweeping  up  the  hearth 
And  putting  love  away, 
We  shall  not  want  to  use  again 
Until  the  Judgment  Day  !  " 


13 


196  AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

By  and  by  he  rose  quietly,  turned  out  the  light,  and  went 
up  with  a  noiseless  step  to  his  own  room.  He  did  not  want 
his  sister  to  accuse  him  of  having  sat  up  late — her  comments 
were  apt  to  rasp  raw  nerves.  But  it  was  only  one  o'clock,  he 
reflected,  even  now.  He  was  not  a  boy  to  sit  up  all  night 
with  his  trouble,  and  carry  a  betraying  face  that  all  the  world 
might  read  with  scornful  pity.  Vaughan  went  to  bed  and 
to  sleep,  nor  did  he  even  dream.  The  most  dramatic  of 
our  mental  exi)eriences  are  not  necessarily  effectively  staged. 


197 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

The  Man. 
"  In  an  older  day  I  have  wept  heart's  blood  as  tears — 

Has  the  curse  not  passed  ?     Will  the  memory  still  pursue  ? 
Across  the  merciful  gulf  of  the  drifting  years 

She  looks  at  me  with  the  eyes  of  a  man  I  knew  !  " 

The  Woman. 
"  I  have  said  '  It  is  false,  I  am  sinless  ! '  (knowing  I  lied), 
And  I  hate  the  innocent  Witness  that  proves  it  true  ; 
Out  of  the  grave  of  my  passion,  long  dead  and  denied, 
She  looks  at  me  with  the  eyes  of  a  man  I  .  .  .  ." 

The  Witness, 

•'  The  doctor  is  here  now,  my  lord.  Would  you  like  to  wait 
and  hear  what  he  says  ?  " 

"  I'll  wait  and  see  Maunders,  anyhow,"  said  Lord  Lowndes, 
passing  the  servant  and  putting  his  hat  and  umbrella  down 
on  the  hall  table  with  decisive  energy.  And  before  the  dis- 
comfited footman  could  hinder  him  he  had  stumped  off  into 
the  familiar  sitting-room,  which,  like  the  Duke's  bedroom, 
was  on  the  ground  floor,  his  square  shoulders  very  square  in- 
deed, and  no  yielding  either  in  face  or  manner. 

There  is  nothing  more  empty  than  a  room  where  you  have 
been  accustomed  to  see  somebody,  and  the  Duke's  figure 
being  almost  invariably  the  central  object  of  the  room  his 
absence  made  itself  more  startlingly  felt  than  if  he  had  been 
in  and  out  like  ordinary  mortals.  The  great  invalid-chair 
standing  empty  gave  Lord  Lowndes  a  feeling  as  if  something 
very  unhappy  were  happening  inside  him — an  experience 
generally  described  as  a  "  turn  " — and  for  the  minute  he  stood 
staring  at  it  and  seeing  nothing  else.  Then  he  started,  for 
there  was  a  movement  in  the  room,  and  he  became  aware  of 
someone  being  present  beside  himself. 


198  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

"  How  are  you,  Mornington  ?  "  he  said,  shaking  hands  the 
more  heartily  to  cover  his  start.  "  Upon  my  word,  I  didn't 
see  you  when  I  first  came  in  !  " 

"  No  ? "  said  the  other  carelessly.  "  Hope  it  wasn't  a 
shock." 

There  was  always  a  faint  irony  in  this  man's  tones  that  was 
a  puzzle  to  other  kindlier  natures.  Lord  Lowndes  wondered 
in  his  inmost  heart  why  it  should  be  suggested  as  a  shock  to 
him  to  find  anyone  sufficiently  anxious  about  the  Duke  to 
wait  in  his  house  for  the  last  report  of  the  doctor.  It  seemed 
to  him  a  very  natural  thing  to  do  for  a  man  like  his  Grace 
the  Duke  of  London. 

"  1  hear  the  doctor  is  here,"  he  said,  for  want  of  a  better 
remark.  "  I  suppose  you  are  waiting,  like  myself,  to  know 
how  the  Duke  is  ?  " 

"  No,  the  doctor  left  ten  minutes  ago — ^just  before  I  came. 
The  Duke's  valet  let  him  out.  I  don't  suppose  the  footman 
knew  that  he  was  gone." 

"  Henry  is  always  a  damned  fool,  anyway — he's  a  proteg6 
of  the  Duchess,  and  Pic  took  him  from  Hyde — which  accounts 
for  it ! "  said  Lord  Lowndes  explosively.  "  What  did  Sir 
Richard  say  ?  " 

"I  have  not  heard.     I  am  waiting  to  see  the  valet." 

There  was  a  pause,  while  Lord  Lowndes  fidgeted  with  the 
familiar  objects  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  nearly  upset  the 
Duke's  favourite  cigar  lighter  into  the  fender.  He  had  big 
fingers  that  were  only  deft  in  their  grip  upon  a  bridle,  with 
the  tips  as  square  as  his  other  attributes. 

"  Your  people  have  not  left  town  yet,  have  they  ?  "  he  said, 
jerking  into  conversation  again.  Mornington  had  sat  down 
by  the  table  and  bent  his  impassive  face  over  an  illustrated 
paper.     He  answered  without  even  looking  up. 

"  Not  yet.     I  believe  they  go  next  week." 

"  Ah  !     Lady  Vera  said  something  about  Spa  this  year !  " 

"  I  dare  say." 

"  You  are  off  to  Rye,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  I  shall  go  down  for  the  week-ends,"  said  Mornington, 
with  the  same  utter  indifference.  "  But  I  don't  fancy  I  shall 
leave  London  for  good  until  the  Autumn  this  year." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Lord  Lowndes  heartily. 
"There  will  be  someone  to  speak  to  at  the  Clubs." 

"  You  are  not  going  yet,  yourself  ?  " 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  199 

"Not  until  my  old  friend  is  much  better,"  said  Lord 
Lowndes  with  a  short  nod  at  the  door  which  led  to  the  Duke's 
bedroom. 

Mornington  raised  his  head  at  last  and  looked  at  the  big 
grey  man  with  the  handsome  face.  There  was  something 
in  the  dark  blue  eyes  that  made  them  sparkle  oddly,  and  the 
large  features  showed  a  momentary  emotion  that  even  a  very 
English  breeding  could  not  hide.  The  financier  looked  as 
if  he  were  a  little  curious — he  even  opened  his  lips  as  if  he 
were  going  to  speak  and  agree.  Then  he  closed  them  again, 
and  a  little  cynical  smile  was  all  his  answer. 

"  Will  you  come  down  to  my  place  for  the  week-end  some 
time,  and  try  the  links  ?  "  he  said  deliberately,  after  a  minute, 
his  reserved  eyes  meeting  Lord  Lowndes's  with  nothing  in 
them  beyond  the  invitation. 

"  Thanks — oh,  yes,  thanks !  I  should  be  delighted.  You 
don't  mean  this  week,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Well,  no.     I  supposed " 

"  I  can't  leave  this  week,"  said  Lord  Lowndes  restlessly,  his 
broad  finger-tips  still  working  havoc  with  the  Duke's  Lares. 
''  But  next,  perhaps — ah,  Maunders  !  " 

The  door  opened  and  shut  with  the  peculiar  click  the  man- 
servant always  gave  it.  There  was  something  natty  and 
precise  in  Maunders's  very  way  of  entering  a  room,  but  this 
morning  his  decorous  jauntiness  was  sobered  to  a  look  that 
would  have  been  anxiety  if  he  had  not  been  so  well  trained. 
He  held  a  letter  in  his  hand  which  he  offered  to  Lord 
Lowndes. 

"  This  came  half  an  hour  ago,  my  lord.  His  Grace  asked 
if  you  would  read  and  deal  with  it,  hearing  you  were  here." 

Lord  Lowndes  took  it  with  one  of  his  bright  blue  glances 
beneath  his  bushy  eyebrows.  It  was  a  thick  business-like 
envelope  without  seal  or  crest,  and  he  did  not  know  the  neat 
caligraphy.  But  he  very  nearly  uttered  an  exclamation  as 
he  turned  to  the  signature  crammed  into  the  very  last  corner — 
"Your  affectionate  wife,  Alicia." 

"  What's  the  doctor's  report,  Maunders?  "  said  Mornington, 
while  Lord  Lowndes  was  still  immersed  in  the  thick  pages. 

"  He  did  not  say  much,  sir.     I  did  not  see  him  alone." 

"  I  thought  you  let  him  out?  " 

"  No,  sir.     Sir  Richard  sent  me  back  to  his  Grace  at  once." 

An    extra   little   wrinkle  seemed   to  have   added  itself  to 


200  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

Maunders's  puckered  lips,  and  his  face  was  that  of  a  worried 
bird. 

"  Has  he  a  temperature  still  ?  "  asked  Momington,  picking 
up  his  hat. 

"  Yes,  sir — loi  this  morning." 

"  Ah ! — I  think  there  is  nothing  I  can  do,  Lord  Lowndes, 
except  to  take  my  departure." 

"  Wait  a  minute."  Lord  Lowndes  was  still  struggling  with 
the  Duchess's  letter.  "  Perhaps  you  can  throw  some  light  on 
this  extraordinary  epistle.  What  did  the  Duke  say, 
Maunders  ?  " 

"  His  Grace  said  he  felt  too  ill  to  read  it,  my  lord !  "  said 
Maunders  without  moving  a  muscle.  "  He  got  through  the 
first  page " 

"  Lucky  he  read  no  more !  "  snorted  Lord  Lowndes.  "  It's 
enough  to  kill  any  healthy  man,  let  alone  a  sick  one.  Listen, 
Momington,"  he  added,  with  a  mingled  sense  of  the  ludicrous 
and  the  dramatic  that  made  the  reading  of  it  aloud  a  piece 
of  acting  in  itself. 

This  was  the  letter — in  which  there  was  little  or  no  punc- 
tuation : 

"  My  dear  James, 

"  I  am  not  at  all  surprised  to  hear  you  are  ill  with 
closed  windows  and  a  good  many  measles  even  in  the  Village 
where  I  insist  on  seeing  to  them  myself.  If  you  had  only 
taken  my  advice  which  old  Porter  neglected  and  his  daughter 
is  now  in  service  with  a  Methodist  who  drinks  but  I  forgot  to 
tell  you  it  might  have  been  avoided.  Of  course  I  am  very 
anxious  at  your  time  of  life  and  natural  infirmities  increased 
by  folly.  I  must  say  it  is  never  safe  to  hope  too  much  but 
in  Providence  (see  Job  xxxvi.  6)  and  Joshua  Nunn's  Camphor- 
tonic  (see  Ad.  which  I  enclose)  I  shall  have  your  name  men- 
tioned amongst  the  sick  and  afflicted  Service  for  the  Harvest 
Gleaners  and  of  course  you  will  write  and  tell  me  if  your 
temperature  goes  up  and  you  at  all  delirious.  I  am  much 
worried  because  the  housekeeper  tells  me  that  the  cook  is 
leaving  which  is  most  inconvenient  for  me  as  I  shall  have  to 
loojc  out  for  another  (I  won't  trust  that  woman)  all  on  account 
of  her  sister's  baby  and  this  is  the  third  since  Christmas  and 
not  one  of  them  could  make  pastry. 

"  Your  affectionate  wife,  Alicia." 


AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN.  20i 

A  slight  cough  seemed  to  have  seized  Maunders,  and  he 
rather  suddenly  disappeared  into  the  Duke's  room  as  if  he 
heard  a  summons  no  one  else  had  caught.  Lord  Lowndes 
looked  after  him  with  appreciation,  then  at  Mornington,  and 
then  suddenly  roared  with  laughter.  It  was  one  of  the 
Duchess's  most  devout  objections  to  him  that  he  could  laugh 
whatever  the  crisis,  and  though  he  might  have  wept  five 
minutes  before.  The  quick  emotional  nature  was  an  oflFence 
to  her. 

"  What  I  want  to  know  is,  is  she  coming  up  to  town  or  no  ?  " 
he  said,  referring  to  the  second  sheet  of  the  letter,  which  was 
all  postscript : 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  leave  just  now  and  Richard 
Burford  is  a  fool — he  alarmed  his  poor  wife  about  her  health 
for  years  before  the  kitchen  chimney  caught  fire  and  she 
died  of  angina  pectoris.  The  five  ten  is  the  best  train  but 
don't  send  anyone  to  meet  me  as  I  shall  drive  round  by  the 
Stores  and  ask  for  their  Homoeopathic  list.  Fat  can  sleep  in 
the  hall — he  is  a  good  house-dog  as  long  as  the  milkman  does 
not  come  when  he  wakes  everybody  by  barking.  I  must 
bring  him  because  the  cat  is  ill  and  I  have  given  her 
Ipecacuanha  which  makes  him  sick  and  I  think  he  is  pining 
If  you  are  better  to-morrow  let  me  have  a  wire." 

"  I  should  say  she  was  decidedly  coming,  and  with  a  whole 
chemist's  shop  !  "  said  Giles  Mornington  drily. 

"  But  then  why  should  he  wire  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  to  reassure  her  that  she  needn't  come  when 
she  has  already  arrived  !     Who  the  deuce  is  this  *  Fat '  ?  " 

Lord  Lowndes  gave  a  little  laugh  of  amused  reminiscence 
not  entirely  caused  by  the  Duchess.  "  Fat  is  the  Duke's  dog. 
I  didn't  know  that  he  was  down  at  Hyde,  but  I  expect  she  is 
right  about  his  pining — he  adores  the  Duke." 

"  It's  an  odd  name  for  a  dog." 

"  It's  just  like  Pic  to  call  him  so,  though.  The  dog  is  fat 
— far  too  fat  for  his  breed.  He's  a  retriever — at  least  he 
was  a  retriever  pup,"  said  Lord  Lowndes,  faint  resentment 
struggling  with  his  sense  of  humour.  "  You  know  my  Nellie, 
don't  you?  I  breed  retrievers,  you  know,  and  Nellie's  the 
best  old  bitch  of  the  lot.  I  gave  one  of  her  pups  to  Pic,  and 
rather  fancied  myself  for  the  generosity,  but  the  old  wretch 
said  that  if  the  pup  grew  as  large  as  NeUie  it  would  be  a 


202  AS   YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

bother  to  have  such  a  big  dog  about  him.     So  he  gave  him 

gin  1  Upon  my  word,  it's  a  fact.  And  the  dog's  body  grew 
to  its  natural  size,  but  his  legs  are  short  in  proportion,  like  a 
turnspit's,  and  he  waddles." 

"  It  was  rather  a  pity  to  spoil  a  thoroughbred,  though — a 
mongrel  would  have  done  as  well  for  those  experiments ! " 
Mornington  was  sportsman  enough  to  be  scandalised,  though 
he  laughed  as  well  as  Lord  Lowndes. 

"  Yes,  but  that's  so  like  Pic — spoiling  a  good  thing  for  a 
whim !  And  now  he  tells  people  quite  gravely  that  Fat  is  a 
special  breed  of  dog  that  he  got  in  Persia — a  Turcoman,  I 
think  he  calls  him — and  that  they  have  those  short  legs  and 
large  paws  from  running  for  miles  over  the  desert.  And,  of 
course,  when  his  stories  are  believed  he  is  delighted,  and  the 
Duchess  is  seriously  shocked  at  the  untruths  he  tells !  She 
always  takes  him  quite  seriously.  Those  immense  women 
very  seldom  have  a  sense  of  humour.  She's  too  stout  to  risk 
a  laugh  !  ■ 

"  I  suppose  you  will  meet  the  5.10?  " 

"I!"  said  Lord  Lowndes,  with  a  certain  irresponsibility. 
"  Good  Lord  !     No.     The  woman  hates  me  like  poison." 

"  Then  you  will  leave  the  Duke  to  her  tender  mercies — 
homoeopathy  and  all,  of  course." 

"  No,  I'm  damned  if  I  will !  She  would  kill  him  with 
worry.  Maunders  and  I  will  mount  guard  and  keep  her  cut 
of  the  sick-room,  if  we  have  to  get  a  warrant  from  Sir  Richard 
Burford !  " 

"  You  know  your  own  affairs  best,"  said  Mornington,  with 
a  shrug  of  his  shoulders.  He  waited  a  minute  at  the  door, 
as  if  it  were  so  unusual  to  offer  his  services  that  it  came 
hardly  to  him.  "  Can  I  meet  the  Duchess  for  you  ?  "  he  said 
abruptly,  with  a  merely  formal  politeness. 

But  Lord  Lowndes  was  not  sensitive  where  he  saw  a  great 
advantage.  "  My  dear  fellow,  I  wish  you  would !  "  he  said. 
"  She  will  be  sure  to  change  her  mind  and  will  be  personally 
affronted  if  nobody  is  there,  because  she  specially  tells  us 
not  to  send  and  meet  her.     You  know  her,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  No,  nor  does  she  know  me.    How  am  I  to  identify  her  ?  " 

"  You  can't  mistake  her — she's  a  mountain !  Look  out  for 
a  woman  who  ought  to  be  shown  round  in  a  fair,  and  you 
have  her.  But  the  servants  will  know.  I'll  tell  Maunders 
to  order  the  carriage  for  you." 


AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN.  303 

"  Thanks — it  had  better  pick  me  up  at  the  Club  then," 
said  Mornington  carelessly,  as  he  departed,  leaving  Lord 
Lowndes  still  frowning  over  the  letter  and  its  varied 
references. 

It  was  to  be  a  day  of  unusual  occurrences  to  Giles  Morning- 
ton.  He  was  still  questioning  his  own  weary  heart  as  to  why 
he  had  taken  the  trouble  to  do  a  good-natured  action  for  no 
hope  of  reward  unless  it  were  a  sense  of  discomfort,  when 
he  arrived  on  his  own  doorstep.  He  was  lunching  at  home, 
he  recollected,  unless  he  learned  from  his  butler  that  there 
were  no  outsiders  to  augment  the  house-party,  in  which  case 
he  would  have  an  engagement  that  took  him  to  his  Club  a 
few  hours  earlier.  As  he  paused  to  put  the  question  to  his 
servant,  he  was  aware  of  a  rustle  of  silk  and  the  sound  of  a 
vvx>man's  light  feet  on  the  stairs  behind  him,  but  he  did  not 
turn  his  head,  nor  was  he  expecting  to  be  addressed  when 
the  steps  paused  at  his  side. 

"  Are  you  going  out  or  coming  in  ?  "  said  Patricia  with  the 
easy  friendliness  she  bestowed  on  any  other  acquaintance. 
"  You  are  such  a  difficult  person  to  catch  that  I  am  obliged 
to  seize  this  opportunity.  I  have  been  wanting  to  speak  to 
you  for  days." 

He  looked  the  displeased  amazement  that  would  have  de- 
terred half  the  world  from  continuing  to  encroach  upon  his 
time.  Patricia  belonged,  however,  to  the  other  half,  to  whom 
even  the  closed  doors  of  his  eyes  were  not  insuperable  bar- 
riers. To  her  mind  the  doors  of  her  father's  own  portion  of 
the  house,  behind  which  she  might  not  enter,  were  not  more 
visibly  closed  to  her  than  the  mind  which  lay  behind  his  ex- 
pressionless face. 

"  I  can  answer  any  question  you  want  to  ask  here  and  now," 
he  said  with  perfect  politeness,  pausing  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  below  which  she  stood.  The  butler  discreetly  drew 
away,  and  by  an  occult  process  took  the  footmen  with  him 
out  of  hearing,  as  needles  follow  a  magnet,  never  mind  how 
unwillingly. 

"  I  want  you  to  invite  me  to  Rye !  "  said  Patricia  with  the 
same  charming  ease.  Her  great  brown  eyes  met  his  with  a 
little  smile  and  absolute  candour,  while  beneath  her  cool 
linen  gown  her  heart  shook  in  wonder  at  that  look  he  gave 
her.  If  she  had  ever  done  him  a  wrong  in  thought  or  word 
she  felt  as  if  it  would  have  scorched  her. 


204  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

"  I  am  not  at  present  going  to  Rye,"  he  said  very  quietly, 
his  manner  so  perfectly  non-committal  that  she  wondered  even 
more  why  he  regarded  her  as  something  in  which  one  dreaded 
to  find  an  awful  recognition.  A  hatred  of  the  house  of  Blais 
must  surely  have  grown  to  the  roots  of  his  very  nature — for 
Patricia  knew  herself  to  look  a  Blais. 

"  But  if  you  and  your  mother  wish  to  go  down  there,  the 
house  is  quite  habitable,"  he  added  composedly. 

"  I  do  not  think  it  has  occurred  to  her,"  said  Patricia.  "  I 
believe  she  is  going  to  the  Continent  soon." 

"  Are  you  not  going  with  her  ?  " 

"  No.  I  have  accepted  an  invitation  to  stay  with  the  Har- 
bingers later,"  said  Patricia,  unconscious  of  the  beauty  of  her 
own  eyes  as  they  met  the  strong  repulsion  of  his.  She  had 
never  stood  so  near  him  in  sole  converse  before,  she  thought, 
and  his  face  was  a  shock  to  her.  It  was  not  so  much  that  he 
was  a  grey-haired  man  at  little  more  than  middle  age,  or  that 
he  was  lined  and  weary ;  but  there  was  a  dreadful  something 
in  his  face  that  made  her  feel  as  if  the  real  man  had  been 
struck  dead — all  hope  and  love  of  the  race  of  life,  even  the 
joy  of  striving,  seemed  to  have  been  starved  out,  and  left 
nothing  but  the  old  query  of  "  Cui  bono  ?  "  written  there  in 
lieu  of  other  expression. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  find  it  dull,"  he  said,  after  a  minute's 
pause  that  was  worse  than  a  point-blank  refusal.  "  There 
will  be  no  one  in  the  house  except  yourself — unless  you  can 
induce  some  lady  to  chaperon  you,  and  are  thinking  of  getting 
up  a  house-party."  For  the  first  time  he  smiled,  and  she 
drew  away  from  him  as  if  it  frightened  her.  "  A  house-party 
is  a  form  of  entertainment  which  grows  more  and  more 
popular,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  I  had  no  thought  of  such  a  thing !  "  Patricia  said  almost 
hastily.  "  I  supposed  you  would  be  staying  down  there,  and 
I  could  join  you  until  I  went  to  the  Harbingers.  But  it  is  no 
particular  matter.     I  presume  you  will  be  in  town  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  I  shall  keep  to  my  rooms  here  and  leave  the  rest  of 
the  house  to  the  workpeople  whom  I  suppose  will  take  it  in 
hand." 

"  I  am  afraid  even  that  will  be  rather  uncomfortable,"  he 
replied  with  an  irreproachable  courtesy  that  thrust  her  to  the 
outermost    circle   of    acquaintanceship.     "  But   you   are,   of 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  205 

course,  free  to  do  just  as  you  like."  The  added  weight  of 
the  last  few  words  and  their  marked  emphasis  made  her  turn 
and  look  at  him  again.  His  eyes  met  hers  as  if  he  would 
impel  her  to  a  comprehension  of  his  meaning.  "  If  you  find 
that  your  expenditure  is  more  than  your  allowance  at  any 
time,  I  hope  you  will  let  me  know  without  any  hesitation,"  he 
said.  "  I  know  that  women  often  find  themselves  short  of 
money  unexpectedly.     You  can  have  more  when  you  want  it." 

"  Thank  you,  but  as  I  do  not  play  Bridge  much,  and  you 
gave  me  my  motor  and  pay  for  the  up-keep  of  it,  I  have  not 
much  on  which  to  spend  money,"  said  Patricia,  a  little 
heavily,  her  voice  dragging  as  if  disappointment  had  weighted 
it.  "  I  bought  a  horse  the  other  day,  but  beyond  that  and 
some  gloves,  I  think  my  quarter's  allowance  is  at  present  un- 
touched." 

"  A  horse  ! "  he  repeated,  as  if  the  words  struck  him.  "  Ah  1 
your  mother  has  the  same  taste.     Do  you  bet?" 

"  No." 

"  There  is  such  a  thing  as  '  making  a  book '  on  races,  you 
know !  "  he  remarked  with  another  ugly  smile.  "  Is  that  a 
vice  of  yours  ?  " 

"  No ! " 

"I  am  a  little  surprised  to  hear  it,"  he  remarked  with  one 
of  his  inscrutable  looks  at  her  in  her  young  health  and  beauty. 
His  hard  eyes  searched  her  face  as  though  they  would  have 
pierced  her  without  pity.  But  he  went  his  way  without  say- 
ing more,  and  left  her  to  go  hers  with  a  feeling  of  defeat. 
Nevertheless,  she  had  gained  an  assurance  that  she  needed, 
and  had  not  faltered  once  in  her  resolution  not  to  accompany 
her  mother  to  the  Continent,  or  to  spend  an  undefended  holi- 
day in  the  company  of  Lady  Vera's  friends.  She  had  been 
expecting  for  some  time  that  there  would  be  a  further  advance 
in  their  arrangements  for  leavmg  town,  and  had  thought  it 
well  to  be  prepared  with  her  own  plans.  She  had  indeed 
been  surprised  that  Lady  Vera  had  not  spoken  to  her  defi- 
nitely on  the  subject,  but  had  not  connected  their  lingering  on 
past  the  end  of  the  Season  with  any  dilatoriness  of  the 
Queensleigh  household.  Caryl  Lexiter  had  come  and  gone, 
as  he  would,  all  the  Season ;  but  so  had  other  men,  who  im- 
pressed her  less,  but  were  almost  as  frequent  visitors  at  the 
house.  Caryl's  passing  remark  that  his  father  was  going  to 
Queensleigh  next  week,  and  he  himself  leaving  town,  did  not 


2o6  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

connect  itself  at  all  with  Lady  Vera's  movements,  in  her 
mind.  She  only  thought  that  it  might  have  been  expected 
long  since  when,  a  day  or  so  later,  her  mother  strolled  into 
her  rooms  about  four  o'clock,  and  asked  if  she  could  have 
some  tea  and  talk  a  little. 

"  Certainly  !  "  Patricia  said  cordially,  ringing  the  bell.  "  I 
thought  you  were  out,  or  I  should  have  come  down  to  the 
drawing-room." 

"  I  went  round  to  my  tailor  to  hurry  them  up  about  my 
habit,  but  there  is  no  one  in  town  to  see  now.  I  have  been 
thinking,  Nougat,  that  we  might  get  away  next  week." 

"  Are  you  going  abroad  ?  "  said  Patricia  civilly,  but  with  the 
impersonal  interest  one  takes  in  plans  not  one's  own.  "  I 
think  you  will  find  the  Riviera  very  hot." 

"  You'll  come  too,  of  course,"  said  Lady  Vera  with  an 
abrupt  decision  that  was  apt  to  arrange  things  to  her  liking 
in  more  lives  than  her  own.  "You  don't  go  to  Chiffon  till 
October." 

"I  really  don't  know,"  said  Patricia  indifferently.  "We 
have  not  settled  the  date  yet.  But  I  certainly  should  not 
come  to  the  Riviera,  anyhow." 

Lady  Vera  had  been  leaning  back  in  an  easy  chair  with  her 
knees  crossed,  the  result  being  a  view  of  frills  and  openwork 
stockings  that  suggested,  if  it  did  not  actually  reach,  her 
knees.  She  sat  up  rather  suddenly,  a  little  increase  in  the 
warm  colour  of  her  cheeks,  and  the  wandering  anger  con- 
centrated in  her  tawny  eyes. 

"  What  nonsense.  Nougat !  "  she  said  loudly.  "  Of  course 
you  will  come  to  Alassio  with  me !  I  have  arranged  quite  a 
big  party  for  the  villa  there." 

"  The  villa  ?  "  said  Patricia  with  the  same  easy  attention. 

"  Ah  !  you  generally  take  the  same  villa,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  We  had  it  last  year " 

"  And  the  same  party  ?  " 

"  Not  quite."  The  red  light  in  the  tawny  eyes  flashed  out 
at  the  younger  woman's  imperturbable  face.  "Anyhow,  you 
will  have  to  come.     They  are  all  expecting  you." 

"  T  am  afraid  they  must  be  satisfied  with  you  alone — as 
usual,"  said  Nougat  quite  as  composed  as  ever.  "If  you  had 
told  me  beforehand  I  could  have  explained  to  you  that  I  did 
not  care  to  come." 

She  saw  the  red  tide  of  passion  sweep  over  the  fair  face 


AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN.  207 

before  her  like  a  danger  signal.  It  did  not  take  long  to  light 
the  Blais  beacon,  and  her  anger  flamed  in  Lady  Vera's  face 
like  a  torch.  She  checked  the  torrent  of  words  rising  to  her 
lips  only  because  a  servant  was  bringing  in  the  tea,  and  sat 
kicking  her  pointed  shoe  against  a  pile  of  books  on  the  lower 
shelf  of  the  little  table  until  the  maid  had  gone  again.  The 
impatient  sound  was  as  uncontrolled,  to  Patricia's  ears,  as 
that  of  an  ill-tempered  child. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  demanded  in  a  burst  of  rage, 
as  soon  as  the  door  closed.  "What  is  your  objection  to 
Alassio?     Where  are  you  going  instead?" 

Patricia  looked  up  from  pouring  out  the  tea  with  a  curbed 
disdain  that  contrasted  oddly  with  her  mother's  loss  of  con- 
trol. "  I  do  not  know  that  I  shall  go  anywhere,"  she  said 
quietly,  "  until  I  go  to  the  Harbingers.  I  shall  probably  stop 
here." 

"  Here !  You  must  be  mad  !  The  house  will  be  turned 
inside  out.     Here !  " 

"  I  can  keep  my  own  rooms  until  I  do  go  away,"  said 
Patricia  composedly.  "But  I  shall  most  certainly  not  go 
with  vou  to  Alassio." 

"Whvnot?" 

"  T  think  it  would  be  better  if  I  kept  my  exact  reasons  to 
myself,"  said  the  girl  rather  slowly  and  proudly.  "  Will  it 
satisfy  you  if  T  say  that  I  am  heartily  tired  of  that  coast  of 
Italy,  where  I  went  with  Aunt  Helen  many  times?  I  should 
prefer  to  stop  in  England  this  year." 

"  No !  "  said  Lady  Vera,  quite  as  rudely  as  if  she  had  not 
been  a  Blais,  for  uncontrolled  passions  are  apt  to  nullify  the 
best  breeding.  "  You  will  kindly  say  what  you  do  mean,  and 
not  put  on  this  damned  side — as  if  there  were  something 
ajrainst  your  coming  with  me  that  was  too  awful  to  say! 
What  do  you  mean  by  it?"  she  almost  screamed,  giving  the 
rein  to  her  anger  and  springing  up  to  her  quivering  height  like 
a  fury.  The  tawny  eyes  were  all  red  now,  the  face  was  white 
where  the  rouge  did  not  hold  its  own,  and  the  cruel  lips 
seemed  to  coarsen  and  loosen  over  the  little  white  teeth.  She 
was  a  beautiful  woman  still,  this  uncontrolled  Harpy  in  her 
temper.  There  was  something  magnificent  even  in  her  un- 
bridled emotions. 

Patricia  had  been  standing  also,  but  stooping  over  the  tea- 
tray.     She  drew  herself  up  now,  her  slightly  added  height 


2o8  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

and  larger  frame  making  her  more  ominous  still  than  Lady 
Vera.  There  was  neither  fear  nor  uneasiness  in  her  face — 
only  a  slightly  disgusted  surprise  and  a  certain  hauteur,  for 
the  first  lesson  she  had  been  taught,  and  taught  again,  albeit 
gently,  was  to  control  herself  and  rule  her  spirit.  Here  was 
n  woman  before  her  who  could  do  neither!  Perhaps  Lady 
Helen  had  been  wise  in  that  training,  remembering  the  stock 
from  which  her  god-daughter  came. 

"  You  can  sit  down,"  she  said  icily.  "  As  you  prefer  it,  I 
will  tell  you  why  I  decline  to  stay  with  you  and  a  house-party 
at  Alassio.  I  have  been  telling  it  to  you  as  courteously  as 
might  be  all  this  Season,  but  you  will  not  take  a  hint,  it  seems. 
I  do  not  care  for  your  set  of  friends — we  have  nothing  in 
common,  and  I  have  not  the  slightest  intention  of  admitting 
them  to  the  degree  of  intimacy  you  do,  in  the  future.  It  is 
just  as  well,  perhaps,  that  we  have  come  to  this  explanation. 
We  are  both  women  with  moulded  characters,  and  one  is 
not  likely  to  influence  the  other.  We  had  better  each  go  our 
own  way,  and  keep  the  peace  so." 

For  a  minute  it  seemed  that  Lady  Vera  was  breathless. 
The  firm  young  face  opposed  to  hers  baffled  her,  for  there 
was  no  yielding  in  it,  either  of  pity,  or  to  her  usual  domina- 
tion. She  was  keen  to  realise  that  even  had  she  tried  to  get 
her  way  in  another  fashion,  and  had  persuaded  the  girl  to 
come  to  Alassio  as  a  companion  to  herself,  she  would  have 
failed  quite  as  completely.  Patricia  was  not  a  merciful 
woman — Lady  Vera  had  never  been  merciful  herself. 
Patricia  was  as  hard  to  move  as  a  man,  once  her  judgment 
was  set.  Lady  Vera  knew,  on  the  contrary,  that  she  herself 
had  been  proved  weak  once  or  twice  in  her  life,  and  was 
weaker  now  than  her  daughter  by  reason  of  the  girl's  guard 
upon  herself.  She  stood  there  panting  with  her  own  sense 
of  impotence,  and  flung  a  last  taunt  to  cover  her  defeat. 

"  You  seem  to  think  the  house  is  your  own !  You  are 
arran^ng  your  universe  without  much  thought  of  whether 
you  will  be  able  to  carry  out  your  plans." 

"First  and  foremost,"  said  Patricia  with  a  rather  bored 
courtesy,  "I  must  remind  you  that  I  am  over  age — T  am 
twenty-four.  Then  I  happen  to  be  independent,  as  T  have 
Aunt  Helen's  money,  whatever  my  father  might  decide  to  do 
with  regard  to  my  allowance.  But  as  it  happens,  I  have 
already  spoken  to  him " 


AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN.  209 


"  To  him !     To- 


For  the  first  time  Lady  Vera  quailed.  She  stared  at 
Patricia  as  if  she  saw  a  ghost — some  hideous  spectre  risen  up 
to  confront  her.  Almost  the  same  look,  but  from  a  different 
source,  Giles  Mornington  had  given  her,  the  girl  thought  with 
a  passing  wonder. 

"  You  spoke  to  him '"' 

"  Certainly.  I  mentioned  that  I  thought  of  remaining  in 
town.  He  told  me  that  I  could  do  just  as  I  pleased,  now  or 
in  the  future.  If  vou  like  to  ask  him,  I  am  sure  he  will 
confirm  me." 

"  Good  God  !  " 

"  Why  are  you  so  surprised  ?  It  strikes  me  as  a  very  usual 
thing  to  have  done.  To  whom  should  I  refer  if  not  to  my 
father?" 

"  Your  father !  " 

Patricia,  drawn  up  to  her  full  height,  was  still  facing  Lady 
Vera.  There  was  a  touch  of  contempt  in  her  face  and 
in  the  heavy-lidded  eyes  that  rested  on  her  mother.  For  a 
minute  the  older  woman  looked  at  her  as  if  fascinated.  Then 
suddenly  the  hot,  ugly  blood  rose  up  to  her  very  forehead, 
making  her  face  appear  mottled  in  spite  of  its  paint.  Her 
eyes  fell  uneasily,  and  she  turned  without  a  word  and  tore 
out  of  the  room  like  a  whirlwind,  slamming  the  door  behind 
her.  By  the  table  Patricia  still  stood  in  her  imperial  attitude, 
her  head  drawn  slightly  back,  almost  as  if  she  had  dismissed 
a  subdued  rebel  from  her  presence. 


14 


2IO 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  Every  year  it  is  becoming  more  obvious  that  inherited  titles  are  as 
dangerous  an  evil  as  inherited  money.  .  .  .  But  there  are  some  men 
whose  nobility  patents  itself.  Such  alone  have  a  right  to  the  beautiful 
names  of  Duke=Leader,  and  Earl=One  higher  than  a  carl  (or  peasant)." 

UnptibHshed  Opinions. 

Patricia  had  other  reasons  for  determining  not  to  leave 
town  at  present,  as  well  as  the  one  that  she  had  gjven  to 
Lady  Vera.  Her  only  means  of  knowing  how  the  Leroys 
were  in  their  trouble  lay  in  remaining  within  a  distance  from 
which  she  could  motor  down  and  enquire  for  herself,  for  she 
was  keenly  aware,  with  bitter  resentment,  that  Vaughan 
would  not  send  her  word,  even  had  she  asked  him,  save  that 
he  would  of  course  answer  a  letter  with  freezing  courtesy  and 
the  least  possible  news;  after  which  he  would  volunteer  no 
more  bulletins.  Sometimes  she  felt  as  if  she  almost  hated 
this  man  with  his  hard  eyes  and  warped  judgment  of  her; 
and  sometimes  she  almost  liked  him  for  his  jealous  guarding 
of  his  friends'  household,  and  the  frank  resistance  of  any 
charm  she  might  herself  possess,  and  absolute  adherence  to 
his  mental  attitude  with  regard  to  her.  He  was  at  least  an 
honest  antagonist,  and  she  had  learned  to  trust  open  enmity 
rather  than  doubtful  friendship  in  the  sham  world  around 
her.  When  Mrs.  Blais  Heron  called  her  a  "  dar,"  and  looked 
sideways  at  her  to  calculate  how  far  one  could  gloss  matters 
over  m  a  half  confidence,  Patricia  had  a  savage  feeling  that 
she  was  not  only  being  fooled,  but  made  use  of  to  an  ignoble 
end. 

Her  second  reason  for  wishing  to  be  in  London  was  again 
a  case  of  illness — that  of  the  Duke  of  London,   of  whom 


AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN.  2ii 

bulletins  still  appeared  in  the  Morning  Post,  and  were  also 
privately  issued  by  Maunders  at  the  rate  of  many  tips,  for 
the  valet  was  besieged  by  more  adherents  of  the  Duke  than 
he  himself  would  have  accredited.  He  had  never  recognised 
his  own  popularity,  being  most  indifferent  to  the  opinion  of 
anyone  whom  he  did  not  really  like;  but  those  to  whom  he 
had  been  most  plain  spoken  were  amongst  the  earliest 
enquirers,  and  were  honest  in  their  regret  and  anxiety. 
Truth  is  like  a  pickaxe  in  some  hands,  and  will  force  the 
gold  out  of  the  most  uncompromising  substance  where  it  lies 
embedded. 

Patricia  called  daily  to  hear  of  her  old  friend,  for  she 
had  not  so  many  amongst  her  acquaintance  whom  she  classed 
under  that  name  that  she  could  afford  to  be  indifferent  to  one 
of  them.  Sometimes  she  saw  the  foolish  footman,  Henry, 
and  once  or  twice  Maunders,  but  she  was  unaware  that  the 
Duchess  had  arrived — far  less  that  Mornington  had  been 
deputed  to  meet  her  at  the  Station — until  one  morning  when 
she  encountered  Lord  Lowndes  upon  the  doorstep  and  they 
went  in  together  to  hear  the  doctor's  report,  Sir  Richard 
Burford's  carriage  being  at  the  kerb  at  the  moment.  "When 
Henry  ushered  them  into  the  formal  dining-room  instead  of 
the  Duke's  favourite  sitting-room,  Patricia  felt  a  momentary 
surprise  which  was  increased  by  the  sight  of  a  remarkably 
stout  lady  sitting  at  the  table  in  a  forest  of  correspondence. 
Her  broad  back  was  turned  to  them  as  she  bent  over  her 
writing,  but  she  appeared,  even  from  that  point  of  view,  as 
voluminous  as  her  letters.  By  her  side  sat  a  curly-coated 
dog  whose  figure  had  a  ludicrous  resemblance  to  her  own, 
for  his  body  was  as  round  as  a  barrel,  and  though  his  fine 
head  and  big  paws  suggested  the  retriever,  his  curiously 
short  legs  gave  him  a  bulbous  appearance  more  native  to  a 
pug  or  a  dachshund. 

Henry,  who  was  bound  to  blunder,  murmured  the  names 
inaudibly,  and  the  stout  lady  did  not  turn  her  head  until  the 
fat  dog  rose  and  waddled  across  the  room,  his  greeting  of 
Lord  Lowndes  being  that  of  one  who  receives  an  honoured 
friend.  At  the  sound  of  his  bark  the  unknown  lady  jumped 
and  quivered  like  a  jelly,  turning  slowly  round  in  her  chair 
as  if  quick  movement  were  a  physical  impossibility  to  her. 

"  Good  gracious !  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  voice  that  matched 
her   person,    for   it   was   of   an    overpowering   quality   also, 

14* 


212  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

though  not  harsh.  "I  didn't  see  that  there  was  anybody 
there,  till  the  dog  told  me.  Fat,  lie  down!  Good  morn- 
ing!" 

She  made  a  little  short  bow  to  Lord  Lowndes,  to  whom 
she  did  not  offer  her  hand,  and  glared  at  him  with  rather 
prominent  eyes.  Everything  about  the  Duchess  was  large 
and  practical ;  she  was  a  plain  woman,  and  made  no  attempt 
to  disguise  the  fact.  Even  her  hair,  which  a  sorrowing  maid 
had  contrived  to  puff  into  something  like  the  prevailing 
fashion,  was  its  own  unmitigated  grey,  and  only  looked  in- 
congruous from  its  correct  dressing.  Her  manner  was  as 
unpretentious  as  her  face,  and  in  spite  of  her  anxiety  and 
grief  over  the  Duke's  illness,  Patricia  could  not  help  an 
irresistible  amusement  at  the  contrast  between  her  and  Lord 
Lowndes,  whom  she  obviously  disapproved  of  and  disliked. 
That  gentleman,  however,  advanced  upon  her  with  his  usual 
enthusiasm,  the  short-legged  dog  fawning  upon  him  all  the 
way,  and  insisted  on  shaking  her  hand,  whether  from  mischief 
or  because  he  did  not  choose  to  be  snubbed,  Patricia  could 
not  tell,  because  she  could  not  see  his  eyes.  She  trusted  to 
their  twinkle  to  betray  more  of  Lord  Lowndes'  mind  to  her 
than  passed  his  lips. 

'  I  really  came  in  to  hear  Sir  Richard's  report.  Is  he  still 
here?"  he  asked,  as  chattily  as  if  the  Duchess  were  his  best 
friend.     ("  Good  old  Fat !     Are  you  glad  to  see  me  ?  ") 

"Yes,  he's  still  here,"  said  the  Duchess,  making  ineffective 
snatches  at  the  dog  as  if  his  lordship's  proximity  were  con- 
taminating. She  was  too  stout  to  reach  the  animal's  collar, 
nowever,  and  to  Patricia's  extreme  entertainment  the  pos- 
session of  the  squat  beast's  body  appeared  to  be  a  tacit  object 
of  rivalry  between  her  and  Lord  Lowndes  during  their  brief 
converse,  the  one  ordering  him  away  and  the  other  retaining 
him  by  parenthetical  exclamations.  "  He  generally  stays  half 
an  hour  or  so,  talking  nonsense  and  prescribing  slops,"  said 
the  Duchess,  referring  to  Sir  Richard  Burford.  "  If  he  had 
had  the  sense  to  give  James  china  he  would  be  a  different 
man  by  now !     (Come  here.  Fat !)  " 

"  An  angel  rather,  my  dear  madam — for  he  would  probably 
not  be  on  earth  at  all !  "  said  Lord  Lowndes  with  surprising 
sweetness,  stooping  to  pat  the  retriever  head  that  was  too 
handsome  for  the  quaint  body.  ("  Poor  old  Fat !  good  old 
boy !)     May  I  introduce  Miss  Mornington  ?  " 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  213 

The  Duchess  turned  to  Patricia  with  a  shade  more  warmth 
and  interest  in  her  face,  diverted  for  the  moment  from  the 
(iog,  who  was  still  paying  Lord  Lowndes  a  forbidden  atten- 
tion. She  was  an  intelligent  woman  in  appearance  at  all 
times,  and  when  her  face  woke  up  it  was  a  pleasant  one,  if 
still  emphatically  matter  of  fact. 

"  Mornington  ! — Mornington !  "  she  said,  looking  at 
Patricia's  tall  figure  and  undeniable  face.  "  Are  you  related 
to  Giles  Mornington?" 

"  He  is  my  father,"  said  Patricia  smiling,  with  the  ever- 
unconscious  lie.  It  struck  Lord  Lowndes  as  an  extraordinary 
thing  that  quite  half  the  world  lied  with  conviction,  while  the 
other  half  shrugged  its  shoulders  over  the  truth. 

"  Then  you  are  the  daughter  of  the  only  sensible  man  I 
have  met  in  London  for  an  age !  "  said  the  Duchess  promptly. 
"  Most  people  who  live  in  town  seem  to  get  the  fog  into  their 
brains  until  it  makes  them  half  imbecile,  I  think !  "  (Lord 
Lowndes,  who  spent  nine  months  of  his  year  there,  looked 
delighted.)     "But  I  really  enjoy  talking  to  Mornington." 

"  Do  you  know  him — well  ?  "  said  Patricia  with  some  won- 
derment. It  struck  her  that  here  was  the  first  person  who 
had  ever  seemed  to  have  formed  an  opinion  on  Mr.  Morn- 
ington at  all,  adverse  or  otherwise.  The  majority  of  her 
acquaintance  knew  him  as  an  inaccessible  personality — that 
was  all. 

"  Never  remember  seeing  him  until  he  met  me  at  Padding- 
ton  the  other  day !  "  said  the  Duchess  briskly.  "  I  declare 
I  thought  that  drive  down  here  the  quickest  I  ever  took.  I 
hate  driving  to  a  sick  house  as  a  rule — one  always  expects  tc 
find   the  blinds  down." 

Lord  Lowndes  suddenly  and  unostentatiously  walked  tc 
the  door.  "  If  you  will  excuse  me,  I  think  I  will  just  see 
Maunders,  and  then  go.  I  am  sure  you  don't  want  a  crowd 
of  visitors,"  he  said  quietly ;  but  something  in  the  tone  told 
Patricia  that  the  Duchess  hurt  most  when  she  was  not  in- 
tending it. 

"You  can  do  as  you  like,"  she  said,  a  trifle  stiffly.  "I 
have  no  doubt  you  know  this  house  as  well  as  I!  (Fat,  come 
here !) " 

Lord  Lowndes  bowed  and  went,  Fat  making  an  inefi^ectual 
effort  to  follow  him;  but  the  Duchess  had  at  last  grabbed 
his  collar,  and  though  his  forward  movement  threatened  to 


214  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

land  her  on  the  floor,  her  dead  weight  stood  her  in  good 
stead,  and  left  her  victorious  though  gasping  a  little  and 
quivering. 

"  He  is  so  strong !  "  she  said  indignantly.  "  I  really  think 
his  legs  are  all  the  more  vigorous  for  being  so  short.  But 
it  is  a  wicked  distortion  of  Nature — James  gave  him  gin  when 
he  was  a  puppy,  you  know,  because  he  said  he  was  afraid  he 
would  grow  as  large  as  his  mother.  Shockingly  flippant,  to 
my  mind.  But  there  is  that  strain  in  James'  people !  "  she 
added  musingly,  sorting  her  correspondence  even  while  she 
talked  all  the  while. 

"  His  mother !  "  said  Patricia,  vaguely,  with  some  idea  that 
the  Duchess  must  refer  to  her  husband's  family.  She  sat 
down  in  the  chair  her  Grace  had  indicated,  and  put  her  hand 
absently  on  the  dog's  head,  for  Fat,  on  being  released,  im- 
mediately sat  down  on  the  tail  of  the  visitor's  gown  and  looked 
up  with  intelligent  eyes  into  others  as  brown  as  his  own. 

"Fat's  mother — a  thoroughbred,  and  very  valuable,  T 
believe.  Of  course  this  poor  beast  is  worth  nothing,  but  he 
is  very  docile.  He  seems  to  like  you — he  is  devoted  to 
James,  too,  and  I  cannot  see  why,"  said  the  Duchess  with 
a  touch  of  resentment.  "  He  will  go  to  James  at  once  and 
leave  me  when  we  are  both  in  the  room,  and  yet  James  pro- 
fesses to  dislike  animals,  and  T  am  always  so  kind  to  them, 
upon  principle !  " 

"Perhaps  that  is  ju.st  why!"  thought  Patricia,  while  she 
drew  Fat's  glossy  ears  through  her  fingers,  from  instinct — 
not  because  it  was  a  caress  "  on  principle."  She  realised  at 
the  same  time  how  this  incessant  stream  of  comment,  and 
plans  from  an  active  brain,  must  weary  an  invalid,  and  under- 
stood why  the  Duke  preferred  his  town  quarters  to  Hyde, 
where  the  Duchess's  energy  was  most  rampant  in  its  scope. 
She  also  thanked  Heaven  that  Sir  Richard  Burford, 
Maunders,  and  Lord  Lowndes  had  formed  a  bodvguard 
whose  object  was  to  keep  the  Duchess  out  of  the  sick-room 

"How  is  the  Duke?"  she  said  in  her  quietest  tone  at  the 
first  pause  from  the  Duchess,  but  with  a  determination  to 
be  informed  that  gained  its  object. 

"T  haven't  seen  him  at  all  yet!"  said  the  Duchess  frankly. 
"  The  Burford  man  insists  that  he  shall  have  no  visitors. 
He  is  about  the  same,  they  say — what  can  one  expect  from 
such  treatment!     I  had  five  children  down  with  whooping 


AS   YE   HxWE   SOWN.  215 

cough  in  the  Cottage  Hospital  when  I  had  to  come  up  to 
London,  and  they  have  all  just  recovered  from  measles 
because  I  insisted  on  their  mothers  going  to  china !  " 

"  To  China !  "  said  Patricia,  vi^ith  a  bewildered  feeling  that 
the  Duchess  had  bereaved  the  unfortunate  infants  of  their 
owners  by  wholesale  emigration.     "  But  I  don't  quite  see " 

"  Instead  of  quinine,  my  dear.  I  fly  to  china  at  the  first 
symptom  of  a  cold !  " 

"Oh!"  said  Patricia  with  a  long  breath.  "I  see.  China 
is  a  drug." 

"  No  one  in  their  senses  uses  drugs !  "  corrected  the 
Duchess  scornfully.  "That's  the  evil  in  Burford's  system. 
Poor  James  is  a  walking  chemist's  shop  by  now,  you  may 
dep>end  upon  it.  It  will  walk  away  with  him  one  of  these 
days!"  (Patricia's  sympathies  were  more  and  more  with 
Lord  Lowndes  in  his  abrupt  departure.)  "  You  are  not  at 
all  like  your  father,"  said  the  Duchess,  so  consecutively  with 
her  last  speech  that  Patricia  nearly  lost  the  thread  again. 
"  And  yet  your  face  reminds  me  of  someone — it's  someone 
T  know  well,  too.     I  have  forgotten  who  your  mother  was?" 

"Lady  Vera  Blais." 

"Of  course."  The  Duchess's  lips  took  a  little  set  that 
Patricia  understood.  Lady  Vera  was  not,  however,  a  sub- 
ject she  could  discuss  with  Lady  Vera's  daughter.  "Your 
father  ought  to  have  gone  into  Parliament,"  she  remarked. 
"  But  the  best  men  always  keep  out  of  it  nowadays,  and 
leave  the  governing  of  the  country  to  those  who  use  it  as  an 
advertisement.  No  one  ever  brings  in  a  measure  in  the 
Lower  House,  it  seems  to  me,  with  any  motive  except  to  have 
it  associated  with  his  name.  The  Fiscal  Policy  is  to  Mr. 
Chamberlain  what  soap  is  to  Mr.  Pears ! " 

"  Have  you  seen  my  father  since  he  met  you  on  your 
arrival?"  asked  Patricia,  still  following  a  train  of  thought. 

"  Every  day,  I  am  glad  to  say !  "  said  the  Duchess.  "  He 
comes  in  during  the  afternoon,  and  we  have  a  chat.  I  sup- 
pose, like  most  modern  young  women,  you  hardly  know 
what  goes  on  in  your  own  family." 

"Hardly!"  said  Patricia,  absently.  With  a  woman's  in- 
tuition she  had  discovered  what  Lord  Lowndes  had  just 
missed — the  reason  for  Momington's  remaining  in  town. 
He  also,  like  herself  and  Lord  Lowndes,  was  a  staunch  ally 
of  the  Puke's.     But  she  perceived  also,  what  surprised  her 


2i6  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

still  more,  that  his  partisanship  had  taken  the  practical  form 
of  keeping  the  Duchess  interested  and  partially  content  while 
she  remained  in  London.  This  form  of  service  had  occurred 
to  no  one  else ;  but  it  had  probably  prevented  her  coming  to 
open  warfare  with  Sir  Richard  Burford. 

She  was  still  trying  to  stem  the  current  of  the  Duchess's 
swift  talk  in  order  to  reduce  it  to  lucidity,  when  Maunders 
opened  the  door  and  asked  her  respectfully  to  come  and 
speak  to  Lord  Lowndes  again  before  he  left.  Patricia  looked 
at  the  Duchess,  who  shrugged  her  broad  shoulders. 

"Oh,  go,  my  dear — ^go,  by  all  means.  He  shows  his  dis- 
cretion by  not  coming  back  here.     We  are  not  very  fond  of 

each  other,  he  and  I.     I  detest  all  that  family casual, 

material,  excitable!  There  never  was  a  Lowndes  yet  who 
did  not  roar  with  laughter  if  the  house  was  on  fire,  and  they 
call  that  a  sense  of  the  ludicrous.  All  the  men  are  hard 
riders  and  hard  livers — boast  of  it,  too !  Why  couldn't  this 
man  marry  decently,  instead  of  remaining  a  bachelor?  And 
besides,  everybody  knows — there!  it's  not  a  story  for  a  girl's 
ears.  Run  away,  and  don't  bring  him  back  to  me  if  you 
can  avoid  it." 

Patricia,  still  smiling  slightly,  had  begun  to  follow 
Maunders  even  through  the  flood  of  reminiscence.  She  did 
not  notice  that  as  she  rose  the  dog  rose  too,  and,  grown 
wary  from  his  last  experience,  had  slipped  behind  her 
long  skirts,  so  that  he  escaped  the  Duchess's  vigilance  and 
accompanied  Patricia  out  of  the  room.  She  did  not  see  Fat 
until  some  minutes  later,  or  realise  that  with  the  miraculous 
instinct  of  animals  he  was  trying  to  discover  where  his  master 
was,  and  had  tracked  him  as  far  as  his  bedroom  door.  The 
instant  they  entered  the  sitting-room  the  dog  walked  over  to 
this  goal  of  his  desires,  and  thrusting  his  ungainly  body  close 
to  it,  rested  his  head  against  the  panels.  He  escaped  Patricia's 
observation  because  she  was  thinking  of  Lord  Lowndes,  and 
the  Duchess's  indignant  half-revelation.  Patricia  was  grow- 
ing hardened  to  innuendoes  even  about  people  she  liked; 
it  was  nothing  to  her  if  my  Lord  Lowndes  had  preferred  a 
morganatic  marriage  to  legality,  so  long  as  his  sins  were  not 
thrust  upon  her  notice.  And  in  her  own  mind  she  mitigated 
the  Duchess's  summing-up  of  his  family  characteristics. 
Casual  he  might  be,  but  he  was  staying  on  in  town  when 
other  men  left,   because  his  friend  was  ill.      Material  he 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  217 

might  be — but  no  more  than  the  rest  of  his  world,  who  "  sat 
down  to  eat  and  drink,  and  rose  up  to  play."  And  for 
"  excitable  "  Patricia  interpolated  "  emotional,"  and  thought 
that  even  this  was  a  virtue  of  sorts  as  he  hurriedly  gave  her 
the  doctor's  report,  and  she  saw  the  dark  blue  eyes  magnified 
by  the  tears  in  them. 

"  Burford  thinks  him  very  weak,"  he  said,  and  his  pleasant 
voice  seemed  to  have  lost  some  of  its  music  and  fallen  a 

note  lower  than  usual.     "  The  fever  has  gone,  but ."     He 

stopped,  and  looked  blankly  round  upon  the  familiar  objects 
most  connected  with  the  Duke,  for  they  were  standing  in  his 
own  sitting-room.  "  Forty  years !  "  he  said,  as  if  thinking 
aloud.  "  We've  been  friends  for  forty  years !  A  man  doesn't 
begin  again  at  my  time  of  life."  For  to  Lord  Lowndes,  his 
Grace  the  Duke  of  London  was  still  the  younger  son,  "  Jim  " 
Piccadilly,  of  no  great  account  save  for  being  the  best  fellow 
that  one  knew. 

Patricia  looked  away  from  him  with  an  instinct  of  delicacy, 
and  her  eyes  fell  on  Maunders.  The  servant  was  standing 
in  an  attitude  that  had  become  habit  to  him,  just  behind  the 
arm  of  the  Duke's  great  chair,  as  he  always  stood  when 
bringing  a  message  or  waiting  for  an  order;  and  the  tears 
were  running  quite  quietly  down  his  sharp-lined  face,  giving 
him  a  grotesque  twist  of  feature  in  place  of  his  usual  astute- 
ness. But  Patricia  found  nothing  to  amuse  her  in  a  grimace 
of  pain  such  as  this.  Against  the  bedroom  door,  his  head 
pressed  close  to  it,  the  dog  still  sat  in  his  wonderful  patience. 

"  If  watching  and  nursing  can  do  it,  my  lord,  you  know 
I  won't  fail !  "  said  Maunders  with  a  catch  in  his  breath. 
"  I've  been  with  him  for  five  and  twenty  years — if  it's  faith- 
ful service  the  doctor  wants  I  think  I'm  better  than  those 
hospital  nurses ! " 

"  I  hope  they  will  let  you  wait  on  him  as  well  as  the 
nurses,  Maunders,"  said  Patricia,  gently.  "I  think  we  would 
all  trust  you  more  than  anybody  else." 

"  Yes,  miss,  thank  you.  His  Grace  always  hated  strangers 
round  him !  "  said  the  man  with  subdued  eagerness.  "  He 
sends  the  nurses  out  of  the  room  half  the  time,  but  Sir 
Richard  Burford  thinks  they  ought  to  be  here,  in  case — ^in 
case " 

"Yes,"  Lord  Lowndes  interrupted  hastily.  "You  must 
have    the   nurses,   Maunders.      They   have  more    authority 


2i8  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

than  you  would  in  keeping  the  Duchess  out,"  What  the 
Duchess  called  excitement,  and  Patricia  emotion,  seemed  to 
threaten  to  overwhelm  him.  He  caught  up  his  hat  suddenly, 
with  a  hand  that  was  not  so  steady  as  usual,  and  by  a 
characteristic  impulse  held  the  other  to  Maunders  and  shook 
hands  with  him. 

"  You're  a  dam'  good  fellow,  Maunders  !  "  he  said.  "  And 
for  God's  sake  look  after  your  master.  We — we — can  none 
of  us  afford  to  lose  him." 

"  Thank  you,  my  lord !  I  will  do  my  best  for  everyone's 
sake — my  own  the  most  of  all.  Miss  Momington!  The 
Duke's  had  me  up  now  and  then  for  things  that  were  not  to 
his  liking,  but  I'd  never  take  service  with  anyone  after  him  !  " 

"  And  Pic  thinks,  or  says  in  his  cynical  way,  that  Maunders 
has  no  attachment  to  him !  "  said  Lord  Lowndes  to  Patricia, 
as  they  left  the  house  together.  He  blew  his  nose  rather 
hard  and  blinked  his  eyes  at  the  outside  sunshine,  but  he 
was  not  at  all  ashamed  of  his  ready  tears.  Very  few  people 
gave  Lord  Lowndes  the  credit  for  being  either  as  simple  or 
as  sensitive  as  he  was,  his  physical  appearance  suggesting 
rather  a  strong,  self-reliant  man,  reserved,  and  a  trifle 
emphatic  in  manner. 

"  I  am  so  glad  that  the  Duke  has  Maunders,"  said  Patricia 
as  cheerfully  as  she  could.  "  I  feel  him  such  a  strong  ally, 
don't  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  Maunders  is  all  right!  "  said  Lord  Lowndes  heartily. 
"He's  a  capital  fellow  and  a  good  servant.  He  would  never 
presume,  for  instance,  on  the  fact  that  I  shook  hands  with 
him  just  now.  Well,  I  liked  to  do  that !  The  fellow  is  faith- 
ful, and  that's  of  more  value  just  now  than  hired  service." 

"  Yes,"  said  Patricia  with  a  sudden  sense  of  depression ; 
it  seemed  to  her  a  very  grey  world  and  full  of  subtle  sadnesses. 
Why  was  it  that  the  Duke,  whom  everyone  loved,  had  no 
relatives  to  give  brain  and  bodily  power  in  his  service  when 
he  was  ill — no  one  but  his  man-servant  to  trust  to,  and  that 
principally  to  keep  his  wife  away!  She  found  the  universe 
at  loggerheads,  and  curiously  mismanaged.  The  men  with 
the  best  and  most  sympathetic  womenkind  were  the  least 
worthy — the  Caryl  Lexiters  of  this  world,  for  whom  Lady 
Queensleigh  had  carried  a  sore  heart  to  her  grave,  and  many 
a  woman  beside  had  wept  in  secret.  But  Giles  Momington 
had  been  unlucky  in  his  married  life,  and  the  Duchess  of 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  219 

London,  for  no  fault  but  an  incompatible  temperament,  was 
as  a  casual  stranger  in  her  husband's  necessity.  Patricia 
thought  of  yet  one  other  couple,  where  the  love  had  been 
full  and  complete  ;  but  there  the  Tragic  Fate  had  entered, 
and  struck  the  husband  down,  possibly  to  death,  while  the 
wife  sat  by  his  side  in  a  patient  despair,  and  would  not  leave 
him,  save  for  sheer  necessity  of  sleep  and  food. 

Patricia  had  not  been  to  Sunnington  for  a  week,  after 
Vaughan's  plain-spoken  request  to  her  to  stay  away.  Tt  had 
not  been  only  that  encounter  which  had  hindered  her,  but 
a  shrinking  from  herself — a  reluctance  to  contrast  her  possible 
future  with  the  little  home  even  when  it  was  shadowed  and 
threatened  with  dissolution.  It  was  strange  to  her  that  the 
more  she  accustomed  herself  to  the  thought  of  Caryl  Lexiter 
in  some  nearer  relation,  the  more  she  vacillated  in  her  desire 
to  see  Fate.  It  had  been  an  impulse  that  had  taken  her 
to  Sunnington  on  the  day  when  she  first  heard  of  Eldred's 
illness,  and  though  the  more  vital  trouble  had  put  her  own 
affairs  out  of  her  head  for  the  time,  she  was  half  relieved 
that  they  had  been  so  forced  on  one  side.  She  felt  that  if 
she  went  to  the  Leroys'  house,  whatever  else  she  found  there 
she  would  have  to  face  her  own  decision ;  something  in  that 
atmosphere  made  honest  confession  a  necessity  to  her,  and 
she  was  still  afraid  to  say  yes,  even  to  herself.  Since 
the  night  of  the  Botanical  Fete  Lexiter  had  not  advanced 
one  step,  either  from  his  prudence,  or  her  panic  fencing 
with  him  when  they  met.     But  she  could  not  forget  the  touch 

of  his  fingers   on  her  neck and  that  she  had  not 

been  angry !  She  was  ashamed  of  her  own  memory  a  little, 
even  now,  but  she  was  not  entirely  resentful.  Lexiter  was 
the  first  man  who  had  ever  dared  to  offer  Patricia  the  ex- 
perience of  masculine  proximity — a  fact  that  Mrs.  Blais 
Heron  could  not  have  credited,  seeing  that  Nougat  was 
twenty-four,  though  it  happened  to  be  true — and  the  start  of 
sensation  had  graven  him  in  her  memory  as  someone  a  little 
different  from  all  other  men,  no  matter  what  her  later  ex- 
perience. His  very  audacity  seemed  to  her  to  separate  him 
from  the  lave,  for  she  did  not  realise  that  the  man  who 
makes  a  woman's  heart  beat  in  angry  recognition  of  her 
sex  will  take  a  place  in  her  life,  however  unacknowledged, 
unusurped  by  any  other.  He  need  not  develop  into  a 
husband,  or  even  an  avowed  lover,  but  he  is  the  pioneer, 


220  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

breaking  the  silence  of  the  unknown  territory  that  lies  beyond 
maidenhood. 

With  an  effort  rather  than  an  impulse  this  time,  Patricia 
made  up  her  mind  to  go  to  Sunnington  in  the  afternoon  of 
the  day  when  she  met  the  Duchess.  She  did  not  see  either 
Mornington  or  Lady  Vera  at  luncheon,  the  latter  having 
ignored  her  save  for  passing  friction  since  her  slated  deter- 
mination to  go  her  own  way,  and  seeming  as  ready  to  avoid 
more  open  warfare  as  Patricia  herself.  It  was  hardly 
necessary  to  meet  in  the  confines  of  the  great  house,  and 
they  went  their  own  way,  Patricia  not  even  being  certain 
on  which  day  Lady  Vera  would  leave  London  for  Italy.  Her 
face  was  shadowed  with  many  thoughts,  and  none  of  them 
glad,  as  she  got  into  the  motor  and  gave  the  chauffeur  the 
direction  now  familiar  to  him.  It  was  rather  a  sunless  after- 
noon, and  the  depression  of  the  dull  season,  or  the  heavy 
August  weather,  seemed  to  her  to  accord  with  her  heavy 
heart. 

The  blinds  were  half  lowered  in  the  front  of  the  Leroys' 
house,  as  a  quiet  glance  showed  her  even  before  she  alighted 
at  the  gate.  There  was  no  one  about,  and  the  hall  door  was 
closed.  The  whole  place  had  an  air  of  repose  to  her  mind, 
almost  of  resignation,  and  she  let  herself  in  gently  and  walked 
up  the  path  with  light  footsteps.  She  had  a  nervous  fear  of 
encountering  Vaughan  again  in  her  present  state,  for  the  last 
few  days  had  tried  her  and  left  her  feeling  unusually  over- 
wrought. Patricia  was  very  delicately  healthy,  but  she  was 
used  to  living  a  far  more  open-air  life  than  was  possible  in 
London,  in  a  far  more  amiable  climate  The  abrupt  altera- 
tion of  all  aspects  of  her  life  since  she  had  come  to  live  under 
Mr.  Mornington's  roof,  had  been  like  a  shock  to  her  physical 
as  well  as  her  mental  system,  and  she  was  suddenly  over- 
powered with  a  horrible  nervousness.  If  she  received  bad 
news  she  felt  that  it  would  be  the  last  blow  that  she  could 
not  bear ;  yet  she  walked  almost  furtively  round  by  the  side  of 
the  house,  along  a  winding  path  that  she  guessed  would  lead 
her  to  the  back  door,  with  an  intention  to  enquire.  There 
was  no  one  about  in  the  garden,  and  the  little  lawn  and  the 
pear  tree  had  an  air  of  desertion.  Even  the  white  cat  was 
absent,  and  Patricia's  knock  at  the  door  sounded  in  her  own 
ears  so  faint  that  she  started  when  one  of  the  servants 
appeared  and  looked  at  her  with  puzzled  surprise. 


AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN.  221 

"  I  came  to  enquire  for  Mr.  Leroy — I  thought  I  would  not 
go  to  the  front  door  for  fear  of  disturbing  anybody,"  Patricia 
said  with  unusual  rapidity  and  hardly  recognising  her  own 
voice. 

The  servant's  face  was  still  frankly  mystified.  "  He  is 
just  about  the  same,  thank  you ! "  she  said. 

The  words  sounded  like  the  monotonous  knell  of  hope  to 
Patricia,  who  was  unaware  but  that  they  meant  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  stupor  in  which  Eldred  had  lain  at  first. 
She  turned  away  without  waiting  for  more,  afraid  of  details, 
indeed,  and  with  a  vague  "  Thank  you — you  need  not  say  I 
called,"  she  brushed  past  the  shrubs  again  to  the  gravel  of 
the  little  front  garden.  Something  in  the  misery  of  it  all 
made  her  despondent,  she  felt  that  Eldred  would  only  lie 
like  this,  with  "  no  change  "  until  he  drifted  out  of  life,  and 
then 

As  she  emerged  from  the  shadow  of  the  house  into  the 
garden  path  she  heard  the  front  door  open,  and  to  her 
regret  a  man's  footstep  following  her  down  to  the  gate. 
She  hoped  that  her  obvious  hurry  would  prevent  whoever  it 
was  from  speaking  to  her,  but  as  she  laid  her  hand  on  the 
gate  Vaughan's  familiar  croak  was  at  her  ear — an  undis- 
guisable  voice  that  she  felt  she  recognised  all  the  more  for 
having  dreaded  it — 

"  Miss  Mornington  !  " 

There  was  just  the  finest  grain  of  apology  in  his  tone,  but 
she  did  not  realise  it  any  more  than  she  did  the  fact  that 
he  must  have  seen  her  from  the  front  windows  and  known 
that  she  had  accepted  his  unkind  concurrence  in  her  going  to 
the  back  door.  Vaughan's  state  of  mind  was  so  far  a  happy 
one,  owing  to  Eldred's  improvement,  that  it  softened  him 
to  all  the  world,  and  he  felt  really  sorry  that  he  had  met 
Patricia  so  belligerently  on  the  former  occasion.  He  laid 
his  hand  quickly  on  the  gate  before  she  could  open  it,  and 
detained  her  so. 

"  Won't  you  come  back  to  the  house  and  have  some  tea  ? 
Do,  please!  Miss  Leroy — Leroy's  aunt — sent  me  as  a  special 
messenger.  Mrs.  Leroy  will  never  forgive  us  if  we  let  you 
go  so  inhospitably  now  that  her  husband  is  better." 

He  stopped  suddenly,  as  taken  aback  as  she  had  been  at 
his  appearance,  for  he  had  caught  sight  of  her  face.  It  was 
paler  than  he  had  ever  seen  it,  and  he  recognised  that  she 


222  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

looked  ill  and  unhappy.  Her  mouth  was  painfully  com- 
pressed, and  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears  which  she  was 
making  a  desperate  effort  to  hold  back  or  disguise.  He  had 
never  denied  Patricia  Mornington's  beauty — it  was  an  offence 
to  him  in  itself;  but  he  had  always  had  an  aggravated  im- 
pression of  a  woman  all  the  more  calmly  self-possessed  by 
right  of  her  fair  face,  and  her  eyes  had  been  rather  repellent 
to  his  imagination,  for  all  their  wonderful  brown  colour. 
Now  it  came  like  a  revelation  that  she  was  very  human  in 
spite  of  her  undesirable  possessions  and  the  vulgarity  of 
excessive  wealth.  He  felt  a  little  shocked,  too,  and  arro- 
gated to  himself  rather  more  cause  of  her  present  distress 
than  was  quite  fair.  It  made  his  voice  three  times  as  gentle, 
and  his  manner  almost  irresistible  as  he  spoke  to  her. 

"Have  they  not  told  you  that  Leroy  is  much  better?  Of 
course  it  is  a  deadly  slow  recovery,  but  the  doctors  think 
he  has  every  chance  to  live.  Please  come  back  to  the  house 
and  share  in  the  general  rejoicing." 

She  shook  her  head,  trying  to  refuse;  but  words  were 
dangerous  at  the  moment,  and  in  despair  she  turned  at  last 
and  walked  back  to  the  house  with  him,  in  silence.  She  was 
quick  to  recognise,  with  gratitude,  too,  that  in  the  dusk  of 
the  hall  he  went  on  first  to  the  dining-room  as  if  to  explain 
her  presence — really,  she  felt,  to  give  her  time  to  recover. 
Her  eyes  were  no  longer  wet,  though  the  lids  still  smarted, 
when  she  followed  him  into  the  dining-room. 

A  beautiful  little  old  lady  with  silver  curls  was  presiding 
over  the  tea  tray,  which  looked  odd  to  Patricia  set  on  the 
uncovered  oak  dining  table.  She  knew  that  had  Fate  been 
downstairs  it  would  have  been  laid  in  the  pretty,  cool  draw- 
ing-room. Miss  Leroy  made  her  unexpected  guest  welcome, 
however,  and  rang  for  an  extra  cup,  and  Vaughan  quietly 
and  skilfully  placed  a  chair  with  its  back  to  the  light — 
another  intuitive  action  for  which  Patricia  thanked  him  in 
her  heart.  A  change  seemed  to  have  come  over  their  re- 
lations, she  vaguely  recognised,  engendered  in  one  moment 
by  that  pause  at  the  gate,  for  she  felt  the  hostility  gone  from 
his  manner  even  more  than  during  her  visit  to  Ashingham 
when,  as  host,  he  could  aflFord  to  be  charming.  She  found 
him  waiting  on  her  and  talking  nonsense  as  he  did  to  Fate 
Leroy,  and  accepted  it  as  if  glad  to  bury  the  hatchet. 

"We  did  not  see  you  at  first,  owing  to  the  blinds  being 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN,  223 

half  down,"  he  explained  as  he  brought  her  her  tea.  "It 
is  a  particularly  sensible  habit  we  have  when  there  is  no 
sunshine,  you  observe." 

"  Well,  my  dear  Mr.  Vaughan,  I  have  been  expecting  the 
sun  to  come  out  all  day !  "  protested  Miss  Leroy,  as  if  this 
were  sufficient  explanation.  "And  sunshine  fades  a  carpet 
so,  does  it  not,  Miss  Mornington?" 

"  Of  course,"  said  Patricia  with  due  gravity.  "  But  Mr. 
Vaughan,  not  being  a  housekeeper,  cannot  be  expected  to 
understand  these  things." 

"  Pardon  me  !  " — Vaughan's  familiar  challenge  almost  made 
her  laugh — "  but  I  am  an  excellent  housekeeper.  My  sister 
is  away  for  six  months  of  her  year  on  hideous  visits,  and 
then  Ashingham  runs  on  oiled  wheels  under  my  benign 
rule." 

"  And  does  she  appreciate  the  faded  carpets  when  she 
returns?"  asked  Patricia  teasingly. 

"  That  is  a  small  detail  compared .  to  the  benefit  of  the 
sun  in  a  room.  If  we  were  all  forced  to  have  a  sun-bath 
whenever  it  was  possible,  we  should  be  happier,  healthier 
mortals,  I  believe." 

"  One  is  apt  to  get  impregnated  with  clouds  and  grey 
skies  in  England,  certainly,"  said  Patricia  wistfully. 

"But  why  do  you  say  that  your  sister  pays  hideous  visits?" 
asked  Miss  Leroy,  who  had  evidently  been  puzzling  over  the 
sudden  adjective. 

"  All  visiting  is  hideous  unless  one  goes  down  into  the 
country  for  sport,"  said  Vaughan  half  pettishly.  He  had 
finished  handing  Patricia  the  toast  and  its  attendant  butter, 
and  now  sat  down  near  her  as  if  to  see  that  she  ate  it.  She 
had  an  amused  impression  of  being  taken  in  hand,  and  found 
it  rather  restful.  With  masculine  inadequacy  Vaughan  was 
making  up  for  his  former  attitude  by  trying  to  spoil  his 
enemy  with  little  material  kindnesses.  His  muscular  hand 
seemed  always  ready  to  serve  her  the  instant  there  was  any- 
thing to  be  done,  until  she  wondered  that  he  seemed  to  know 
when  her  cup  was  empty,  without  looking. 

"My  sister  visits  in  a  peculiarly  hideous  manner,"  he  went 
on  to  explain.  "  She  takes  any  amount  of  luggage  to  begin 
with,  that  wears  out  her  soul  with  its  care,  and  she  stays 
with  people  she  does  not  like  in  order  to  talk  about  it  to 
someone  else  whom  she  likes  less.    Do  you  notice  that  almost 


224  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

everything  people  do  socially  is  done  in  order  to  make  sub- 
jects for  conversation  ?  " 

"  But  surely  one  goes  to  see  one's  friends  because  one  likes 
them !  "  protested  Miss  Leroy,  a  little  shocked  by  his  novel 
ideas. 

"  Not  at  all !  Most  people  go  to  see  their  friends  to  say 
that  they  have  done  so  to  other  '  intimate  enemies.'  They 
go  to  the  theatre  for  the  same  reason.  '  It  will  be  some- 
thing to  talk  about!'  they  say.  Why  do  women  pay  calls? 
Why  do  they  do  picture  shows  ?  Certainly  not  for  the  sake  of 
exchanging  ideas,  or  because  they  know  anything  about 
pictures !  "    Vaughan  snorted. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  your  guilty  conscience,"  retorted  Patricia. 
"  Of  course,  you  are  really  speaking  personally,  Mr.  Vaughan? 
If  you  ever  come  to  see  me  after  this  I  shall  wonder  for  whom 
I  am  to  make  a  subject  of  conversation." 

"  I  shall  discuss  you  from  your  hat  to  your  shoes,  be 
assured  of  it !  "  said  Vaughan  gaily.  "  Not  a  hair  of  you  will 
escape.  All  the  same,  the  present  company  is  always  ex- 
cepted. Miss  Mornington.  When  I  said  'we'  I  did  not 
include  myself,  of  course." 

"  Because  you  felt  yourself  so  superior !  " 

"  We  are  always  superior  to  our  own  weaknesses — in  our 
own  minds.  Let  me  get  you  some  more  tea.  Miss  Leroy  tells 
fortunes  in  the  cup,  by  the  way.  Last  night  she  promised 
me  that  I  was  going  to  marry  by  accident !  Doesn't  it  sound 
light-hearted  ?  " 

"  There  is  something  a  trifle  unsteady  about  it.  I  should 
doubt  the  legality,  if  I  were  you.  Are  you  always  so  giddy 
in  your  actions?" 

"I  didn't  think  so,  but  Miss  Leroy  is  finding  me  out,  you 
see.  Will  you  have  yours  told?  I  can  see  a  coach  and 
horses,  and  the  letter  C  and  two  imprisonments — I  am  sure 
I  can ! ''  He  had  screwed  his  glass  into  his  eye  and  was 
staring  into  the  empty  cup,  standing  tall  and  spare  before 
her.  But  Patricia  stretched  out  her  hand  for  it  almost  im- 
pulsively. 

"  No,  I  am  afraid  of  being  told  my  fortune  just  now ! " 
she  said  with  a  faint  accession  of  colour,  though  she  laughed. 
"  I  have  a  superstitious  dread  of  hearing  any  more  bad 
news." 

"Why?     Have  you  heard  so  much  of  late?"  he  asked 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  225 

gently,  and  his  eyes  were  quite  kind  in  spite  of  their  intent 
gaze  into  her  flushing  face. 

"  Yes,  on  the  whole  I  think  I  have.  Besides  Mrs.  Leroy's 
trouble,  which  has  been  very  real  to  me,  I  have  had  another 
friend  very  ill,  and  as  he  is  an  elderly  man  and  an  invalid, 
I  am  very  anxious." 

"You  don't  mean  the  Duke  of  London,  do  you?"  said 
Vaughan  with  an  impulse  that  surprised  himself,  for  what 
were  Patricia  Momington  and  her  anxieties  to  do  with 
him? 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"  He  is  not  so  old  a  man  that  you  need  be  unhappy,  I 
think,"  said  Vaughan,  setting  down  the  empty  teacup. 
"It  is  only  influenza,  is  it?" 

"  No,  but  you  must  remember  that  he  is  rarely  well,  and — 
we  are  all  very  fond  of  him,"  said  Patricia  rather  breathlessly. 
"  Everyone  whom  he  admits  to  his  friendship,  I  mean,  and 
a  good  many  whom  he  does  not !  1  never  knew  a  man  who 
tried  to  be  popular  less,  and  succeeded  more." 

"  It  seems  to  me  almost  good  to  be  a  Duke — sometimes !  " 
said  Vaughan  quietly.  His  words  were  nothing,  but  his 
eyes  meeting  hers  pointed  the  meaning.  She  was  aware  that 
she  had  spoken  earnestly,  and  the  colour  in  her  face  deepened 
rather  than  left  it  to  her  own  slightly  haughty  surprise.  Her 
nerves  must  be  very  unsteady  if  a  suggested  compliment  from 
a  man  she  professed  to  dislike  could  not  pass  her  by,  in- 
different. 

"There  is  a  good  deal  of  illness  about,  I  am  afraid,"  she 
said  as  she  rose  to  go,  snatching  at  the  platitude  as  a  guard, 
"  Will  you  give  my  love  to  Fate,  Miss  Leroy,  and  say  how 
very,  very  glad  I  was  to  hear  that  her  husband  was  getting 
better." 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  see  her  the  next  time  you 
come  down,"  said  the  older  lady  cordially,  as  they  shook 
hands.  She  was  under  the  spell  of  Patricia's  manner,  and 
full  of  sincere  admiration  for  her  face  and  figure.  "We 
have  persuaded  her  to  come  down  once  or  twice,  but  she  is 
resting  upstairs  to-day." 

"  They  are  going  away  as  soon  as  Eldred  recovers  suffi- 
ciently to  be  moved,"  Vaughan  added,   as  he  walked  with 
her  to  the  gate.     "  Of  course  it  may  be  many  weeks  yet." 
"I  am  staying  in  town,"   Patricia  said  a  little  hurriedly. 

IS 


226  AS   YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

"If  you  do  not  think  I  should  be  in  the  way,  I  should  be 
so  thankful  to  come  dovm  every  now  and  then  ?  " 

She  did  not  mean  to  revenge  his  former  speech  on  him, 
but  he  winced  a  little.  "  You  have  a  right  to  be  nasty,  I 
suppose !  "  he  said  with  his  over-sensitive  manner.  "  But 
you  need  not  rub  it  in.  I  know  I  was  discourteous  to  you 
on  the  last  occasion  when  we  met,  and  it  has  been  rankling 
in  my  mind  ever  since.  I  am  crossgrained  when  I  am  very 
unhappy,  I  suppose." 

"  I  did  not  mean  that !  "  she  said  quickly  and  generously. 
"  You  could  not  think  it !  I  dare  say  you  were  quite  correct 
in  the  circumstances.  But  I  should  really  like  to  know  if 
you  think  visitors  would  be  better  away,  and  I  promise  not 
to  resent  it  if  you  tell  me  the  truth !  " 

"  I  think  you  will  be  perfectly  welcome,  and  that  we  shall 
all  be  very  glad  to  see  you ! "  he  said,  as  generously  as  she 
had  spoken.  "  And  I  hope  I  shall  be  over  here  on  the 
occasions  when  you  come." 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  her,  smiling.  Vaughan  was  if 
anything  a  plain  man;  when  he  was  out  of  sorts  or  ill- 
tempered  he  was  positively  ugly.  But  for  the  moment 
Patricia  acknowledged  that  she  liked  his  face  much  better 
than  many  a  handsomer  one.  There  was  something  irritat- 
ingly  attractive  in  his  characteristics  that  made  them  linger 
in  her  memory,  as,  for  instance,  the  little  croak  in  his  voice 
and  the  way  in  which  he  screwed  the  eyeglass  into  his  eye 
and  looked  down  on  her.  She  found  herself  pondering 
about  him  long  after  he  had  passed  out  of  her  sight,  and 
forgiving  him  his  unreasonable  temper  for  the  sake  of  his 
quick  kindness  and  the  extreme  gentleness  with  which  he 
could  speak.     Of  one  thing,  moreover,  she  felt  sure — that 

he  was  quite  incapable  of  taking  a  liberty such  as 

a,  man  might  in  placing  a  woman's  cloak  round  her  shoulders, 
for  instance.  Generosity  or  inclination  could  call  this 
audacity,  but  she  felt  that  Vaughan's  fastidious  rejection  of 
such  methods  was  the  better  breedmg. 

And  Vaughan  himself,  lighting  a  cigarette  in  the  porch, 
forgot  for  once  that  Patricia  had  just  driven  away  in  a  seven 
hundred  guinea  motor,  or  that  her  lot  was  fallen  unto  her 
in  too  fair  a  ground.  He  remembered  only  two  brown  eyes 
that  were  full  of  tears,  and  that  proved  her  human. 


227 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  If  in  some  Future  yet  to  be 
Thine  heart  should  beat, 
Hearing,  across  the  thought  of  me, 

Returning  feet, 
And  then  thine  eyes  should  fill 
Because  they  lingered  still, — 
Were  I  a  thousand  miles  afar  we  still  might  chance  to  meet !" 

Mirage. 

"  Leave  the  blind  up,  Babs  !  You  are  shutting  out  the  sun- 
light," said  Eldred's  voice  lazily  from  the  bed. 

"  I  thought  it  was  in  your  eyes,  sweetheart,"  Fate  re- 
sponded, drawing  up  the  blind  again  and  fastening  it,  so  that 
the  long  level  rays  struck  across  the  cool  big  room  which  was 
really  her  own,  but  had  become  Eldred's  kingdom  for  the 
nonce.  The  bed  had  been  wheeled  round  so  that  the 
prisoner  could  at  least  breathe  the  free  air  for  which  he  pined, 
and  the  open  windows  made  the  long  monotonous  days  less 
hard  to  him. 

"  I  always  think  there's  health  in  the  very  feeling  of  sun- 
shine !  "  he  said,  turning  his  heavy  head  ever  so  slightly  upon 
the  pillows,  so  that  the  apology  of  his  blue  eyes  could  reach 
the  lady  sitting  nearest  to  him.  "  Do  you  mind,  Miss 
Mornington  ?  " 

"  I  infinitely  prefer  it,  thanks,  Mr.  Leroy.  A  long  acquain- 
tance with  real  summers  has  caused  me  to  hoard  every  ray 
of  sunshine  in  what  is  merely  called  after  that  Season  in  Eng- 
land! Like  Mr.  Vaughan,  I  would  take  a  sun-bath  every  day 
if  I  only  could." 

"  How  you  must  miss  the  warmth  and  the  flowers  of 
Funchal !     Babs  will  let  down  the  blinds  because  she  thinks 

15* 


238  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

I  shall  be  too  hot — I  can't  be  hot  getting  no  exercise.  It's 
rather  shivery,  if  anything." 

Patricia  looked  down  at  the  helpless  figure,  shorn  of  its 
strength,  with  the  eyes  of  a  possible  mother.  She  was  not  a 
very  maternal  woman  as  a  rule — by  no  means  the  "  Cat- 
woman  "  of  Fate's  condemnation — but  where  her  affections 
were  touched  her  protective  instinct  rose  to  guard  the  object. 
And  she  was  very  fond  of  Eldred  Leroy.  For  a  singularly 
simple  and  one-minded  character  Eldred  attracted  an  unex- 
pected amount  of  affection.  His  attribute  of  Youth  was 
perhaps  one  reason  of  this,  and  a  naturally  sunny  disposition 
which  the  world  saw,  while  the  real  Eldred  that  lurked  behind 
it  was  a  very  reserved  man,  and  one  in  whom  his  wife  some- 
times found  surprising  depths  that  she  had  not  expected. 
Even  his  male  nurse,  who  still  lingered  to  attend  upon  him 
in  his  convalescence,  had  succumbed  to  a  certain  charm  of 
character  in  him,  and  satisfied  Fate  by  his  obvious  devotion. 
Patricia,  sitting  on  one  side  of  the  bed,  was  conscious  that 
though  there  were  several  people  in  the  room,  each  with  a 
marked  personality  that  impelled  attention,  the  man  with  the 
bandaged  head  lying  so  helplessly  on  his  pillows,  was  the 
real  centre  of  everyone's  thoughts  as  well  as  the  obvious  one 
of  the  group. 

"  I  was  looking  over  May's  '  Confession  Book '  the  other 
day,"  remarked  Marion  Rodney  from  a  seat  nearer  the 
window,  "  and  I  came  on  that  page  where  she  induced  Eldred 
to  write.     I  see  that  his  idea  of  happiness  is  '  Fresh  air ! ' " 

"  How  funny  she  was  over  that !  "  said  Fate  in  tickled  re- 
miniscence. "  She  came  to  me  quite  solemnly  and  asked  if 
I  had  minded  her  asking  Mr.  Leroy  to  write  before  me,  *  'cos 
she  liked  him  a  little  bestest !  " ' 

"  May  is  my  sweetheart,"  Eldred  smiled  to  Patricia.  "  We 
are  great  chums.  When  she  grows  up  she  is  going  to  be  my 
second  wife !  " 

"  And  without  disposing  of  Fate  either ! "  put  in  Gerald 
Vaughan.  "  I  asked  her  what  she  was  going  to  do  with 
Mrs.  Leroy,  and  she  merely  said,  '  She  could  do  a  travel ! ' " 

"  Oh,  very  well !  "  retorted  Fate.  "  I  shall  start  for  India 
at  once,  overland,  with  the  nicest  man  I  can  find.  I  can't 
take  a  sea  voyage,  unfortunately;  I  am  too  uncertain  a 
sailor,  and,  of  course,  if  he  were  very  nice  I  could  not  possibly 
look  plain." 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  229 

"  May  has  got  a  newer  love  than  you,  Eldred !  "  warned 
Mrs.  Rodney.  "  She  is  now  Miss  Mornington's  devoted 
slave.     Did  you  know  ?  "  she  added,  turning  to  Patricia. 

"  I  did  not,  indeed,  and  I  am  immensely  flattered,  as  it 
must  have  been  a  lightning  conquest.  I  found  her  in  the 
garden  the  last  time  I  was  down  here — on  Thursday,  was  it 
not  ? — and  we  made  great  friends.  But  I  did  not  know  that 
she  liked  me  very  much.  Indeed,  she  gave  me  a  lecture  on 
deportment ! " 

"  That  was  for  your  soul's  health,"  explained  Gerald 
Vaughan.  "  May  sets  us  all  to  rights.  What  did  she  say  to 
you  ?  " 

"  She  said,  '  Aunty,  if  you  let  your  pwetty  fwock  dwag  it'll 
be  vewy  dustered,  and  I  fink  your  nursey  will  be  cwoss ! '  I 
held  up  my  gown  after  that.     I  was  most  meek." 

"  Evidently  your  meekness  made  the  desired  impression, 
for  she  asked  me  to  bring  her  Confession  Book  to-day  and 
get  'her  big  lady'  to  write  in  it!  Here  it  is."  Marion 
Rodney  tossed  a  small  battered  volume  into  Patricia's  lap — 
a  volume  that  had  evidently  run  the  gauntlet  of  many  ink- 
pots and  gone  to  bed  with  May  herself  occasionally. 

"  I  had  not  bargained  for  such  a  compliment ! "  said 
Patricia  a  little  ruefully.  "  May  I  read  the  other  confessions 
first  ?  " 

"  Not  until  you  have  written  your  own — and  you  must  speak 
the  truth,  please." 

"  That,  of  course,"  said  Patricia  quietly,  "  as  the  book 
belongs  to  a  child.  It  is  rather  a  grown-up  possession  for  a 
person  of  May's  years,  surely  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  best-beloved  of  her  heart  all  the  same.  She 
wants  Mr.  Vaughan  to  write  too,  by  the  way." 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  Vaughan,  his  unexpected  promptness 
causing  both  Fate  and  Mrs.  Rodney  to  look  at  him  as  if  a 
little  startled.  He  crossed  the  room  with  the  long  step 
that  seemed  unavoidable  on  account  of  his  build,  and 
taking  a  small  stool  seated  himself  beside  Patricia. 
"Now,  Miss  Mornington,  I  will  have  that  page  opposite  to 
you ! " 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  said  Patricia,  wrinkling  her  brows  as  she 
wrote,  and  wrestling  with  the  rival  merits  of  oysters  and 
raspberries  as  judged  by  her  own  taste.  "  To  be  strictly  im- 
partial, I  ought,  perhaps,  to  have  put  two  answers  to  every 


230  AS   YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

question,  but  the  book  is  not  capacious  enough.  Now,  Mr. 
Vaughan — ^your  turn  !  " 

"  What  a  lot  you  seem  to  have  written !  "  said  Vaughan, 
screwing  his  eyeglass  into  the  eye  nearest  to  her  and  peering 
at  the  conscientious  answers.  " '  My  favourite  colours — white 
and  fawn.'     Pardon  me,  but  white  is  not  a  colour!  " 

"  It  is  the  foundation  for  them  all,  anyhow,  and  the  result 
if  they  are  all  merged,  isn't  it?  And,  besides,  you  have  no 
right  to  look  at  my  Confession  before  you  write  your  own." 

Vaughan  took  the  book  on  to  his  own  knee  and  began  to 
write  in  his  turn.  He  was  not  sitting  near  enough  to  Patricia 
for  his  sleeve  even  to  brush  her  own,  yet  she  had  an  annoyed 
feeling  of  his  proximity,  and  was  a  little  restive  under  it.  Two 
or  three  times  lately  he  had  deliberately  come  and  sat  by  her 
side,  as  if  he  found  some  satisfaction  in  it.  Patricia,  always 
with  a  preconception  about  Fate  in  her  inmost  mind, 
wondered  if  he  took  refuge  with  her  from  himself  and  his 
temptations !  They  had  met,  inevitably,  an  incalculable 
number  of  times  since  his  embargo  upon  her  presence  at 
Sunnington  had  been  removed,  for  she  had  either  motored 
or  driven  down  two  or  three  times  a  week,  and  had  generally 
found  him  there,  unless  he  were  late,  though  even  then  he 
arrived  before  she  left.  They  were  excellent  friends  now,  she 
told  herself  quietly,  and  on  the  whole  she  liked  him.  For, 
in  spite  of  an  irritable  temper  and  other  characteristics  no 
more  tolerable,  Vaughan  possessed  that  most  subtle  and 
powerful  influence  called  Personality  which  to  some  women 
is  all  the  Law  and  more  than  the  Prophets. 

"  May  I  be  allowed  to  read  yours  now  that  I  have  finished 
my  own  ?  "  he  demanded,  cramping  his  small  signature  into  the 
furthest  comer  of  the  page.  It  was  a  fine  handwriting  at 
the  best  of  times.  Patricia  could  hardly  read  the  "  Gerald 
Ludlow  Vaughan." 

"  Of  course,"  she  said  with  faint  irony.  "  It  will  interest 
you — if  only  to  see  how  much  we  differ !  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  interests  me  to  see  that  we  only 
diverge  sufficiently  to  blend  a  contrast.  Entire  sameness 
would  be  monotony.     Yours  first : 

"  My  favourite  colours — ^White  and  fawn. 
My  favourite  occupation — Riding. 
My  favourite  names — Arthur,  Elizabeth,  Helen. 


AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN.  231 

My  favourite  food — Oysters. 

My  idea  of  misery — To  be  helpless. 

My  idea  of  happiness — Congenial  companionship. 

My    favourite    prose    authors — Hugo,    Bunyan,    Oliver 

Wendell  Holmes. 
My  favourite  poets — Omar  Khayam  and  King  Solomon. 
My  favourite  artists — Turner  and  Millet. 
My  pet  aversion — Ill-breeding. 
My  favourite  virtue — Tact. 
The  vice  I  hate  most — Dishonour. 
My  favourite  motto — Non  quo,  sed  quomodo  (Not  who, 

but  how). 
My  signature — Patricia  Mornington." 

"  It  is  full  of  side-lights  on  your  character!  "  said  Vaughan. 

"  I  have  tried  to  be  truthful !  " 

"  You  have  succeeded  in  putting  me  to  shame  !  " 

"  Let  me  read  yours !  "  said  Patricia  remorselessly. 

"To  yourself,  then!" 

"  You  did  not  read  mine  to  yourself !  " 

"There  was  no  occasion." 

"  That  I  feel  sure  is  a  base  subterfuge  to  avoid  vivisection 
of  your  character,"  said  Patricia  calmly,  but  she  did  not  read 
out  his  confession  nevertheless. 

"  My  favourite  colours — Purple  and  brown. 
My  favourite  occupation — Sport. 
My  favourite  names — George  and  Margery. 
My  favourite  food — Olives  and  Chianti. 
My  idea  of  misery — ^Want  of  means. 
My  idea  of  happiness — Freedom  from  responsibility. 
My  favourite  prose  authors — De  Quincey  and  Cervantes. 
My  favourite  poets — Schiller,  Homer,  and  Omar  Khayam. 
My  favourite  artists — Michael  Angelo  and  Giotto. 
My  pet  aversion — ^A  Philistine. 
My  favourite  virtue — Common-sense. 
The  vice  I  hate  most — Lying. 

My  favourite  motto — '  It  is  on  the  knees  of  the  gods.' 
My  signature — Gerald  Ludlow  Vaughan." 

"  We  only  touch  once — over  Omar  Khayam,"  said  Patricia 


232  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

thoughtfully.  "  It  seems  to  me  strange  that  we  should  both 
have  named  him," 

"  So  our  souls  meet  under  the  auspices  of  old  Omar !  You 
do  not,  however,  really  like  him." 

"  I !  Really,  Mr.  Vaughan,  I  must  be  allowed  to  know 
my  own  taste." 

"  He  is  utterly  alien  to  you.  I  doubt  if  his  philosophy 
comes  home  to  you  at  all.  You  simply  like  the  music  of 
Fitzgerald's  translation. 

"Oh,  don't  be  foolish!  "  said  Patricia  a  trifle  impatiently. 
"  What  can  you  possibly  know  of  me  ?  It  is  not  even  worth 
while  to  quarrel  with  you  !  " 

She  turned  the  pages  idly  and  read  scraps  of  other  people's 
failings  with  annoyance  that  she  had  paid  any  attention  to 
Vaughan's  synopsis.  It  was  nothing  to  her — nothing.  He 
did  not  enter  into  her  life  at  all.  If  she  regarded  him  in 
any  particular  light  it  was  sadly,  as  something  that  might 
possibly  threaten  Fate  Leroy's  perfect  circle  of  existence,  as 
she  saw  it.  She  kept  her  eyes  studiously  on  the  written 
pages  of  the  child's  book,  and  away  from  Vaughan's  lean, 
strong  profile.  There  was  a  suggestion  of  hunger  in  the 
lines  of  his  face — a  look  as  of  a  man  dissatisfied,  who 
might  have  been  almost  peevish  if  he  had  not  passed 
through  the  refining  fire  of  endurance.  Her  eyes,  outwardly 
on  what  she  was  reading,  saw  inwardly  every  line  of  the 
face  beside  her,  and  read  it  with  a  gentleness  that  was 
almost  tender. 

"  Fate  has  put  courage  and  self-reliance  as  her  pet  virtues, 
I  see,"  she  remarked  for  the  sake  of  breaking  her  own 
thought.  "They  seem  to  me  a  trifle  egotistical.  I  would, 
I  think,  call  her  kind  and  generous  rather  than  brave  and 
able  to  stand  alone." 

"  Yet  your  own  idea  of  misery  is  to  be  helpless !  "  he  re- 
minded her  quickly.     "  How  very  illogical  you  are." 

"  And  how  very  personal  you  are  this  afternoon !  "  said 
Patricia  good-humouredly,  turning  to  him  with  an  impulse 
that  surprised  herself,  and  with  a  warm  light  of  laughter  in 
the  brown  depths  of  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  that  is  my  style — I  was  always  impertinent !  "  he 
returned  calmly.  "  Here  is  the  book,  Mrs.  Rodney — with 
two  more  victims,  as  you  can  tell  May." 

"  Thanks  so  much.     I  must  be  getting  home  to  her  now — 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  233 

my  nurse  has  asked  for  an  'evening  out'  and  I  have  to  put 
the  chicks  to  bed  myself.  I  sometimes  wonder  when  my 
'  evening  out '  comes  !  I  am  sure  the  mothers  want  it  as  much 
as  the  nurses." 

"  That  is  not  a  bad  idea,"  said  Eldred.  "  The  last  develop- 
ment of  Woman's  Suffrage — that  they  shall  have  their  '  night 
off,'  whether  married  or  single.  Babs  here  wants  hers  badly 
enough  of  late,  I  am  sure." 

"You  silly  old  thing!  "  said  Fate  Avith  dainty  disdain.  "If 
you  don't  take  care  I  will  motor  back  to  town  with  Patricia, 
and  leave  Phlumpie  to  sick  nurse." 

"  Phlumpie's  idea  of  nursing  is  to  sit  on  the  patient's 
chest ! "  said  Eldred  laughing.  "  He  was  lying  on  mine  all 
the  morning — he  found  it  nice  and  warm." 

"  He  is  a  privileged  person  all  the  same — he  was  the  first 
you  recognised !  I  am  jealous  of  Phlumpie  I "  said  Fate, 
seating  herself  on  the  side  of  the  bed  and  lovingly  pulling 
the  counterpane  quite  awry. 

"  Not  quite  !  "  breathed  her  husband  almost  inaudibly ;  but 
she  heard,  and  their  eyes  met  and  forgot  the  rest  of  the  world 
for  a  minute. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Eldred  had  been  allowed  so  many 
visitors,  and  Patricia  rose  to  leave  before  her  usual  hour,  fear- 
ing to  overtire  him.  Usually  she  found  him  with  Fate  alone, 
and  Vaughan  did  not  go  up  to  talk  to  him  until  she  had  left ; 
but  he  was  so  far  advanced  in  his  recovery  that  Miss  Leroy 
had  left  to  prepare  her  home  to  receive  him  as  a  convalescent, 
and  he  and  Fate  were  to  go  as  soon  as  the  doctor  would  let 
him  be  moved. 

It  was  August  when  Eldred  met  with  his  accident,  and  now 
it  was  October.  Thanks  to  a  sound  constitution  and  the  full 
strength  of  his  manhood  he  had  come  back  to  life  more 
rapidly  than  the  most  sanguine  of  his  doctors  had  hoped. 
The  injury  having  been  to  the  right  side  of  his  head,  his 
speech  was  hardly  affected  from  the  first,  and  the  slight  para- 
lysis of  the  left  side  of  his  body  had  quickly  passed  off;  but 
for  the  first  month  he  had  not  exerted  himself  much  to  re- 
cover the  difficult  words  that  came  slowly  to  his  lips,  and  had 
been  like  a  child  learning  to  think  connectedly.  The  perfec- 
tion of  the  comprehension  between  his  wife  and  himself  was 
never  more  beautifully  instanced  than  the  relief  with  which 
he  turned  to  her  from  the  very  first,  to  express  what  he  could 


234  AS   YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

not.  She  was  his  interpreter,  and  they  seemed  as  by  a 
miracle  to  have  but  one  mind  between  them.  He  had  not 
yet  attempted  to  write  or  to  read,  but  speech  had  become 
habitual  to  him  again,  and  with  his  renewed  grip  upon  life 
he  was  looking  forward  to  the  change  of  leaving  the  sick-room 
for  Miss  Leroy's  house  in  the  country.  In  the  meantime  he 
held  court,  and  to-day  his  audience  had  been  increased.  He 
was  not  even  now  really  tired,  and  smiled  up  at  Patricia  as 
she  said  good-bye,  asking  her  to  come  as  often  as  she  could 
and  stay  as  long  as  she  pleased. 

"We  are  off  next  week,  I  hope!"  he  said.  "  Babs  wants 
you  to  come  and  help  her  to  pack  up." 

"  Of  course  I  will.  I  shall  be  delighted.  In  fact  my  tears 
at  losing  you  will  be  mingled  with  my  joy  at  helping  you  to 
get  away !  " 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  go.  I  am  sick  of  lying  here  !  "  he  said 
ingenuously.  As  Patricia  stood,  looking  down  on  him,  his 
face  seemed  to  her  that  of  a  pathetic  boy,  for  his  hair  had 
grown  longer  than  its  usual  restricted  down,  and  was  rubbed 
into  a  curl  or  two  on  his  forehead,  while  his  face  had  a  little 
colour  in  it.  She  looked  at  the  blue  eyes  following  his  wife 
contentedly  about  the  room,  and  at  the  sweet  firm  lips,  and 
wished  she  had  been  his  sister  that  she  might  have  bent  down 
and  kissed  him.  It  was  an  absolutely  pure-hearted  impulse 
that  Eldred  roused  in  many  women,  and  of  which  Fate  had 
only  need  to  be  glad. 

*'  You  need  not  trouble  to  come  to  the  gate,  Mr.  Vaughan," 
Patricia  remarked  as  she  ran  down  the  shallow  staircase  to 
the  little  hall,  and  a  hasty  tread  followed  her.  "There  is 
no  occasion  to  pack  me  into  the  motor  to-day ! " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  demanded  with  a  touch  of  resentment  in 
his  voice.  "Did  I  do  it  so  badly  last  time?  I  am  sure  I 
spread  the  rug  over  you  and  banged  the  door  quite  like  a 
professional  footman." 

"  No  !  no !— it  is  not  that " 

"  Have  I  done  anything  to  merit  your  displeasure,  then, 
that  I  am  dismissed  from  your  service  in  such  an  undeserved 
manner  ?  " 

"You  need  not  labour  with  all  those  elaborate  phrases!" 
said  Patricia  drily.  "  It  is  simply  that  there  is  no  motor  to 
pack  me  into.     I  came  by  train." 

"  By  train !  "     He  stared  at  her  for  a  minute,  then  caught 


AS   YE   HAVE    SOWN.  235 

up  his  hat  deftly  from  the  hall-table   as  he   followed  her. 
"  Very  well — I  shall  see  you  to  the  station  !  " 

"No,  do  not  trouble.     There  is  no  necessity." 

"  There  is  every  necessity — because  it  pleases  me,"  he  said 
quietly.     "How  do  you  think  Eldred  looks?  " 

"  Much,  much  better.  It  is  Fate  who  needs  attention  now. 
She  looks  fagged." 

"  Ramsey,  the  nurse,  is  doing  his  best  in  that  way.  He 
runs  after  her  all  day  with  glasses  of  port  wine  and  biscuits." 
Vaughan  spoke  with  faint  satire. 

"  I  am  very  glad  indeed  to  hear  it,"  said  Patricia  decidedly 
— all  the  more  decidedly  because  she  fancied  that  in  his 
manner  she  detected  jealousy  of  anyone  else  who  looked  after 
Mrs.  Leroy  in  competition  with  himself.  And  this  was  pos- 
sibly true,  because  however  honestly  a  man  may  turn  his  back 
on  a  stage  of  mental  feeling,  it  does  not  follow  that  he  will 
eliminate  all  the  habits  of  it  at  once. 

"  I  shall  be  verj^  glad  when  they  are  away,  and  with  Miss 
Leroy  again.  I  was  sorry  she  had  to  leave,  and  throw  the 
housekeeping  on  to  Fate's  shoulders,"  said  Patricia  thought- 
fully. "Mr.  Leroy  told  me  they  hoped  to  get  away  next 
week." 

"  Yes,"  said  Vaughan  absently.  He  was  not,  at  the 
moment,  thinking  of  either  Eldred  or  Fate ;  he  was  looking 
in  a  sidelong  fashion  at  the  fine  lines  of  the  figure  beside 
him,  and  noticing  how  well  this  woman  walked.  Patricia 
generally  wore  cool  linen  gowns  when  she  went  to  Sunnington, 
as  long  as  the  mild  autumn  allowed  her,  partly  because  the 
severity  of  the  white  was  less  ostentatious  than  other  clothes, 
and  the  quiet  of  the  "  Dead  Season  "  in  London  made  her 
fear  to  be  remarked  in  any  way.  Patricia's  linen  gowns,  how- 
ever, cost  as  much  as  many  women's  silks,  and  it  was  at  any 
time  unlikely  that  she  would  be  passed  in  a  crowd.  During 
May  or  June  she  had  been  but  one  woman  a  little  more 
beautiful  and  better  dressed  than  a  multitude  of  others.  In 
September  and  October  she  would  have  been  painfully 
apparent — at  least  to  herself.  Vaughan  was  not  unapprecia- 
tive  of  a  thing  because  he  chose  to  cavil  at  it.  He  had 
always,  in  his  heart,  loved  the  perfection  of  Patricia's  clothing 
and  the  nobility  of  her  build.  A  long  experience  of  walking 
on  cobbles  in  Funchal  had  trained  her  to  a  certain  light  firm- 
ness of  step,  and  he  experienced  the  same  pleasure  in  walk- 


236  AS   YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

ing  with  her  that  he  would  have  done  in  riding  behind  a  well- 
stepping  horse. 

"  Fate  has  asked  me  to  come  and  help  her  to  pack  up  1 " 
said  the  object  of  his  thoughts  suddenly,  with  a  little  mali- 
cious desire  to  assert  her  intimacy  in  the  household  out  of 
which  he  would  once  have  thrust  her. 

"  Yes,  she  has  asked  me  too !  "  he  returned  calmly,  taking 
the  wind  out  of  her  sails.  "  They  are  shutting  up  the  house, 
and  sending  the  cat  to  the  home  at  Battersea.  Of  course  it 
makes  a  good  deal  to  do,  with  packing  things  away." 

"  Poor  Phlumpie  ! "  said  Patricia,  to  cover  her  defeat.  "  I 
suppose  they  will  be  gone  some  months  ?  " 

"  Eldred  has  three  months  sick  leave  from  now,  and  prob- 
ably an  extension  if  the  doctor  advises  it.  His  chiefs  are 
treating  him  well,"  said  Vaughan  with  grudging  justice,  for 
he  did  not  believe  in  government  officials  having  bowels  of 
compassion. 

"Oh,  well,  of  course,  I  am  going  to  help  Mrs.  Leroy  with 
her  personal  belongings,"  said  Patricia  in  a  tone  of  supe- 
riority, recovering  her  lost  advantage.  That  it  was  a  point 
gained  to  her  was  proved  by  the  heat  with  which  he  answered. 

"  She  could  almost  do  that  for  herself,  I  should  think  !  It 
is  the  extra  arrangements — the  packing  up  at  home,  in  which 
she  really  requires  help !  " 

"  Oh,  no — she  wants  someone  to  pack  for  her,  so  that  she 
need  not  leave  Mr.  Leroy.  I  am  going  to  be  her  maid !  " 
(Patricia  was  exultant.  Vaughan  could  not,  at  least,  be  Fate's 
maid !) 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  he  assented  unexpectedly.  "  Leroy  will 
want  his  things  put  in  too.     I  shall  offer  to  be  his  valet !  " 

The  humour  of  the  situation  overcame  Patricia's  sense  of 
a  jealous  right  in  Fate  Leroy.  She  raised  her  lambent  eyes 
suddenly  to  his  face,  and  laughed  out.  She  was  woman  of 
the  world  enough  not  to  be  afraid  of  the  sound  of  her  own 
laughter. 

"  At  this  rate  they  may  just  as  well  sit  side  by  side  without 
moving  a  finger,  until  we  actually  dress  them  and  put  them 
out  of  the  house !  "  she  said. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  it  will  come  to  that  if  you  are  so  deter- 
mined to  make  a  slave  of  yourself !  "  said  Vaughan,  unjustly 
carrying  the  war  into  the  enemy's  country, 

"  Well,  we  need  not  bicker  over  them,  poor  things ! "  said 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  237 

Patricia  more  mildly.  "  Let  us  at  least  part  in  amity — here 
is  the  station." 

"  I  never  intended  to  part  in  anything  else !  "  he  returned 
loftily.  "  There  is  your  train  in  now,  but  you  need  not  hurry 
— you  have  exactly  two  minutes  before  it  starts." 

"  I  wish  you  had  not  said  '  exactly,'  it  makes  me  much  more 
nervous  than  if  it  were  actually  moving  out ! "  Patricia  com- 
plained, avoiding  a  carriage  containing  a  baby  and  biscuit 
crumbs,  and  narrowly  escaping  a  smoking  compartment  in 
consequence.  The  next  instant  she  found  that  she  need  not 
trouble  to  look  after  herself,  at  least.  With  one  hand 
Vaughan  opened  the  door  of  an  empty  carriage,  and  with  the 
other  under  her  elbow  assisted  her  in.  As  she  thanked  him 
the  train  began  to  move,  but  the  last  she  saw  before  she 
turned  from  the  window  was  his  raised  hat,  and  the  refined, 
cross  face  beneath,  with  quick,  cold  eyes  that  lingered  oddly 
in  her  memory ;  there  was  not  even  the  gentleness  of  approval 
in  them,  and  yet  they  were  not  unkindly. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said  to  herself  as  she  sat  back  in  her 
lonely  seat,  "  why  I  like  him  ?  " 

At  the  next  station  her  musing  was  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  four  people — a  gentleman  and  lady,  who  passed 
up  the  carriage  and  sat  in  the  two  corner  seats  furthest  from 
her,  and  two  younger  women  who  entered  severally,  and 
sat  opposite  to  her  side  by  side.  Patricia  observed  them  with 
a  quickened  attention  born  of  the  past  painful  months.  Her 
experience  had  taught  her  to  divide  into  Classes,  where  before 
she  had  judged  broadly  as  educated  and  uneducated.  She 
had  learned  the  meaning  of  "  Ourselves "  in  Lady  Vera's 
mouth,  and  the  equivalent  expression  "One's  own  world"  in 
Fate  Leroy's,  though  the  two  phrases  meant  very  different 
selections.  Patricia  was  always  seeking,  whether  consciously 
or  not,  for  that  great  Middle  Class  to  whom  she  believed  she 
belonged  by  right  of  birth — the  workers  of  the  world,  but 
not  the  mere  labourers.  It  had  become  a  pitiful  pride  in 
her  to  divide  herself  from  the  family  of  Blais — considered 
typically — by  reason  of  that  less  thoroughbred  Momington 
strain  in  her,  and  it  was  taking  the  place  of  the  beliefs  and 
traditions  of  Lady  Helen's  day  which  had  been  so  rudely 
dispelled  in  Lady  Vera's  set.  These  people  in  the  railway 
carriage  with  her  were  the  Middle  Class,  and  it  was  in  a  fur- 
tive study  of  them  and  their  circumstances  that  she  had  of 


238  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

late  discarded  the  motor  and  travelled  dustily  by  rail.  What 
was  it  in  these  men  and  women  that  induced  the  atmosphere 
of  which  she  so  honestly  approved  ?  She  looked  at  the  first 
comers,  the  gentleman  and  lady  sitting  furthest  from  her,  and 
found  ordinary,  comely  faces,  not  lacking  in  intelligence,  but 
with  a  touch  of  anxiety  in  them  that  meant  the  same  ex- 
perience as  Vaughan's  in  a  different  degree — the  seeking  for 
something  bitterly  denied,  which  was  yet  an  education  by 
reason  of  its  very  denial.  Of  the  two  women  opposite,  one 
was  pretty  and  rather  ill-dressed,  the  other  quiet,  neat,  with 
nothing  that  could  be  disapproved,  but  it  was  not  so  much 
mere  clothes,  suited  to  their  position  or  no,  or  the  scraps  of 
very  commonplace  conversation  Patricia  caught,  which  meant 
anything  worth  the  pondering,  to  her  mind.  These  were  no 
doubt  dull  people;  well,  she  had  sampled  mediocrity  and 
even  worse  in  Bertha  Vaughan,  though  on  the  whole  she 
found  Vaughan's  step-sister  more  tolerable  than  Editha  Blais 
Heron  and  her  follies.  But  in  all  this  enormous  majority  of 
England  that  she  saw  passing  her  in  the  street — in  the  traffic 
— in  fancy  behind  the  solid  walls  of  South  Kensington — there 
was  the  same  reserve  of  reliance,  the  same  sense  of 
capability.  They  represented,  to  Patricia's  mind,  the  sturdy 
morality  that  made  a  safe  foundation  for  other  advantages, 
even  though  it  was  professed  in  varying  creeds. 

"  Some  of  us  would  say  that  we  could  not  do  these  things 
because  it  would  lower  our  characters — and  some  would  say 
that  if  we  did  them  we  should  be  afraid  to  say  our  prayers !  " 

So  long  as  the  women  of  the  Middle  Classes  were  afraid 
to  say  their  prayers  if  they  did  not  honour  God,  their  neigh- 
bour, and  themselves,  Patricia  felt  that  their  world  was  best 
for  her,  and  as  clean  as  the  fresh  air  after  a  sick-room. 

It  had  been  one  of  Lady  Helen's  tenets  that  if  people  were 
gentlefolk  they  were  both  pleasant  and  profitable  to  know. 
She  had  a  natural  preference  for  her  own  connections  and 
relations  (they  reached  through  half  the  peerage),  with  the 
old,  staunch  adherence  that  belonged  to  her  age ;  but  she 
preferred  them  because  they  were  of  her  blood,  and  not  be- 
cause they  were  of  "  good  family  "  and  held  the  hollow  repu- 
tation of  coming  from  a  blood  stock.  Lady  Helen  knew, 
even  in  her  own  day,  how  often  the  baton-sinister  should  have 
spoiled  the  escutcheon.  Patricia  had  been  brought  up  to 
think  all  men  and  women  her  equals  who  could  behave  as 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  239 

such ;  but  she  had  been  but  vaguely  conscious  of  an  outside 
world,  those  people  whom  Fortune  had  sent  in  her  way  being 
as  a  rule  sufficiently  moneyed  or  of  a  social  position  to  meet 
her  with  an  introduction.  Of  all  the  immense  mass  of  the 
people  in  England,  with  lives  outside  the  pale  of  her  own, 
yet  with  claims  to  her  consideration,  she  had  never  thought. 
Now  she  saw  them  consciously,  toiling  past  her,  living 
anxiously  but  cleanly  in  their  humdrum  morality,  a  class  so 
extended  that  she  could  hardly  say  where  it  began  or  ended, 
but  each  unit  of  which  had  suddenly  become  an  individual 
to  her. 

She  had  time  for  study   and  for  thought  in  those  days, 
through  the  drone  of  the  Dead  Season,  when  not  a  soul  she 
knew  appeared  to  be  in  London,  and  the  great  house  in  Picca- 
dilly was  given  over  to  cleaners  and  whitewashers.     At  the 
other   end  of  its  vast  emptiness,   miles  away  from   her  she 
fancied,  were  those  rooms  inhabited  by  the  personality  she 
called  her  father,  and  whose  life  was  as  locked  to  her  as  his 
private    doors.     They    hardly   ever    met,    unless    they    en- 
countered each  other  in  the  darkened  hall,  and  she  did  not 
even  know  when  he  left  town  at  a  week-end  for  Rye,  or  re- 
turned  for  a  purpose  she  had   only   divined  through    Lord 
Lowndes — the  tacit  watch  for  some  service  to  be  rendered  to 
the  Duke   of  London.     Yet  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  in  the 
pauses  of  her  meditation  she  were  always  listening  for  his 
step,  for  some  sign  from  him  that  should  explain  their  curious 
strained  relations,  just  as  the  great  white  house  was  always 
waiting  for   its  long-deferred  tragedy.     In   her  own  rooms, 
still  untouched  by  the  cleaners'  hand  as  they  would  be  until 
she  joined  the  Harbingers,  Patricia  lived  her  life  for  those 
quiet  weeks  that  came  like  the  blessed  pause  before  the  fighter 
girds  on  his  armour  for  a  new  and  perhaps  sterner  effort. 
John  Bunyan  in  writing  his  Pilgrim's  Progress  made  no  finer 
point  than  that  rest  by  the  wayside  which  he  calls  the  Land 
of  Beulah,  and  which  comes  as  a  merciful  breathing  space  both 
to  Christian  and  Christiana.     It  seemed  to  Patricia  Morning- 
ton,  beset  by  doubt  as  to  what  she  was  going  to  do  with  her 
life,  and  with  a  hideous  sense  of  suspicion  already  beginning 
to  dog  her  footsteps,  that  she  had  found  her  Land  of  Beulah 
in  the  half-closed  house  in  Piccadilly  and  the  sick-room  at 
Sunnington.     In  the  one  she  meditated  on  her  experiences 
in  the  other;  and,  naturally  enough,  inextricably  interwoven 


240  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

with  all  her  peace  and  pleasure  was  that  active  and  disturbing 
personality  called  Gerald  Vaughan.  She  could  not  dissociate 
him  from  her  few  weeks  of  Beulah,  during  which  she  rested 
from  her  struggle,  any  more  than  she  could  pass  his  pro- 
pinquity by  as  a  mere  detail  of  the  picture,  an  incident  that 
was  finally  merged  in  the  anxiety  and  relief  for  Fate  and 
Eldred.  Vaughan  declined  to  be  merged  into  any  other  in- 
terest in  her  mind ;  he  stood  out  sharply,  both  on  account  of 
his  former  belligerence  and  later  amity.  His  companionship 
had  been  so  curiously  forced  upon  her  in  their  mutual  faith- 
fulness to  Fate  that  she  had  accepted  it  unconsciously,  and 
now  that  she  found  herself  reaching  the  end  of  the  episode 
she  was  aware  of  unexpected  discomfort  and  rebellion. 
When  Fate  and  Eldred  went  away,  her  association  with 
Vaughan  would  naturally  cease ;  there  was  nothing  to  bind 
them  together  outside  the  little  house  at  Sunnington,  and  it 
was  impossible  that  without  some  decisive  contest  with  fortune 
that  their  lives  could  continue  to  enter  into  each  other.  Yet 
it  was  with  a  feeling  of  impotent  regret  that  was  almost  pain 
that  Patricia  went  down  to  Sunnington  for  the  last  time,  for 
some  months  at  least,  to  help  pack  up  for  Fate,  and  to  say 
good-bye  to  all  of  them.  In  three  months  she  knew,  although 
she  thrust  the  thought  from  her,  that  a  decision  awaited  her 
which  meant  a  totally  new  phase  of  her  existence,  and  a  final 
disseverance  from  the  least  chance  of  meeting  Vaughan 
again.  And  though  her  vague  desire  to  continue  the  ac- 
quaintance was  hardly  an  acknowledged  thing,  even  to  her- 
self, the  shadow  of  Caryl  Lexiter  loomed  large  behind 
Vaughan's  actual  bodily  presence  each  time  she  met  him, 
until  it  seemed  like  a  cloud  that  would  finally  blot  them  out 
from  each  other. 

Vaughan  was  already  in  possession  and  engaged  in  packing 
up  when  Patricia  arrived.  The  first  knowledge  she  had  of 
his  presence  was  his  bending  figure  in  its  shirt-sleeves,  wrest- 
ling with  a  large,  untidy  pile  of  music.  She  was  amused  to 
notice,  however,  that  though  he  had  divested  himself  of  a 
coat  he  had  retained  his  eyeglass.  It  remained,  firmly  fixed 
in  his  eye,  when  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  shook  hands  with  her. 

"  You  have  stolen  a  march  on  me !  "  she  said  with  a  smile 
somewhere  in  the  eyes  upraised  to  his.  "  But  never  mind ! 
I  shall  work  much  harder  than  you,  and  accomplish  more 
after  all." 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  241 

"  You  would  find  it  difficult !  "  he  returned,  smiling  back  at 
her  without  malice.  Vaughan's  smile  was  apt  to  be  tinctured 
with  irony  and  wryed  his  mouth.  But  it  was  evident  that 
to-day  he  was  in  a  gracious  mood.  "  I  have  been  dusting  and 
packing  away  books,"  he  remarked,  passing  an  irreproachable 
handkerchief  across  his  moistened  temples.  "  Did  you  ever 
know  that  that  was  a  heating  process?  It  is  a  more  con- 
densed exertion  than  ten  miles  hard  cycling,  but  it  produces 
quite  as  much  effect." 

"  I  packed  most  of  a  heterogeneous  library  when  I  left 
Madeira,"  said  Patricia,  "  because  I  would  not  trust  the  native 
servants.     Are  you  sure  you  dusted  them  first  ?  " 

"  Why  this  scepticism  ?  " 

"  Because  most  men  would  think  they  had  done  their  duty 
in  placing  them  neatly  so  as  to  lose  as  little  space  as  possible. 
The  dust  would  pass  unnoticed — until  they  washed  their 
hands !  " 

"  I  wish  you  would  kindly  disentangle  me  from  the  re- 
mainder of  your  male  acquaintance,  Miss  Mornington  !  Why, 
because  they  possess  these  dreadful  vices,  should  you  suppose 
me  their  equal  ?  I  assure  you  that  I  am  a  very  tidy,  thrifty, 
admirable  person — with  a  respect  for  books !  " 

"  Well,  we  won't  quarrel  about  it !  Your  opinion  of  your- 
self seems  to  be  so  good  that  mine  is  quite  superfluous. 
Where  is  Fate?" 

"  She  is  giving  Eldred  his  beef-tea,  or  his  hair-wash,  or 
his  morning  paper — something  happens  to  the  poor  invalid 
every  hour.  It  is  no  use  your  going  to  look  for  her,  because 
you  will  only  be  unwelcome." 

"  What  am  I  to  do  then  ?  " 

"  You  are  to  stay  and  help  me  !  " 

"  I  will  undertake  the  music,  under  those  circumstances," 
said  Patricia,  passing  him  promptly  and  swooping  down  upon 
the  pile.  She  lifted  her  clean  linen  skirt  without  embarrass- 
ment, pinning  it  neatly  round  her,  and  leaving  the  silk  under- 
skirt to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  fray,  knelt  down  and  began 
reducing  the  pile  to  order  with  strong,  shapely  hands. 
Vaughan  stood  at  her  elbow  looking  down  on  the  coils  of 
warm  hair  under  her  hat — such  hair!  thick,  and  rich,  and 
bright  with  health.  He  did  not  attempt  to  go  on  with  the 
work  of  dismantling  the  room  of  Fate's  private  possessions ; 
seeing  which  Patricia  paused  and  looked  up. 

16 


242  AS   YE    HAVE   SOWN. 

"  I  think  you  might  perhaps  carry  that  Venetian  glass  into 
the  dining-room  and  lock  it  up  in  the  sideboard,  if  you  do  not 
know  of  a  safer  place,"  she  remarked.  "  I  know  Mrs.  Leroy 
values  it." 

"  I  am  waiting  to  help  you  tie  up  that  pile.  You  cannot 
do  it  alone,  and  it  has  to  be  tied  together,  and  laid  on  the  top 
of  the  piano,  which  will  finally  be  covered  with  a  dust  sheet. 
You  see  I  have  all  my  orders !  "  (He  did  not  add,  because 
it  is  to  be  hoped  that  he  did  not  know,  that  Fate  had  thought- 
fully apportioned  work  to  her  two  helpers  that  would  ordin- 
arily have  been  done  by  her  servants,  for  some  Macchiavellian 
reason  deep  down  in  her  feminine  heart,  finding  it  rather 
hard  in  reality  to  invent  a  probable  employment.) 

"  So  it  seems !  Well,  where  is  the  string  ?  I  am  quite 
ready  with  the  music." 

Vaughan  knelt  down  beside  her  at  her  self-imposed  task, 
and  began  to  tie  up  the  pile  as  she  suggested.  Once  his  hand 
touched  hers,  but  he  did  not  make  the  mistake  of  an  apology, 
ignoring  it  with  finer  taste.  They  were  simply  two  workers, 
brought  into  juxtaposition  to  help  their  friends.  Such  at 
least  was  their  mental  attitude — whatever  Mrs.  Leroy's  might 
have  been. 

"  How  well  Eldred  sings  that  thing  of  Marzial's !  "  he  re- 
marked, looking  down  at  the  upper  sheet  of  music  which  bore 
on  its  title-page  "  Ask  nothing  more." 

"  Yes  !  "  said  Patricia  with  a  sigh.  "  I  wish  he  were  well 
enough  to  sing  again,  as  well  for  my  own  sake  as  his." 

"  Are  you  so  fond  of  music  ?  " 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  Mr.  Leroy's  singing.  There  is  some- 
thing that  appeals  to  me  in  its  very  simplicity." 

"  It  is  not  a  passionate  voice  !  " 

"  No — but  so  true  !  " 

"  Oh,  the  two  things  are  not  incompatible,"  he  said  a  trifle 
impatiently.  "I  have  heard  voices  no  more  beautiful  than 
Eldred's,  yet  which  thrilled  me  more  because  they  were  not 
so  lifeless." 

"  Lifeless  !  "  said  Patricia  indignantly.  "  You  call  Mr. 
Leroy's  voice  lifeless  when  he  sings  such  songs  as  '  Ask  no- 
thing more '  and  his  wife  is  in  the  room  !  "  She  paused  and 
looked  at  him  full,  with  amazed  brown  eyes.  He  did  not 
answer.  Something  seemed  suddenly  to  communicate  itself 
to  her,  and  she  wished  she  had  not  even  touched  a  theme 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  243 

which  to  her  had  been  almost  sacred.  In  the  recesses  of  her 
memory  many  a  dusky  evening  in  this  very  room  was  thrilled 
through  by  Eldred  Leroy's  voice  singing  to  his  wife  in  an 
unknown  world  of  which  Patricia  knew  that  she  only  caught 
the  echo  in  the  music:  — 

' '  Once  to  have  sense  of  you  more — 
Think  you  and  breathe  of  you,  sweet  ! 
He  that  hath  more  let  him  give — " 
He  that  hath  wings  let  him  soar ;  L 
Mine  is  the  heart  at  your  feet 
Here  that  must  love  you  to  live  ! " 

"  Passionate  voices  are  so  often  throaty !  "  she  remarked 
prosaically,  turning  from  Vaughan  even  as  she  spoke.  His 
silence,  she  could  not  tell  why,  had  filled  her  with  a  double 
pain.  She  felt  the  wrack  of  the  storm  in  him,  and  did  not 
realise  that  the  storm  was  past. 

"  Is  yours  not  a  musical  household  ?  "  he  asked,  rising  also 
and  leisurely  following  her  across  the  room  to  the  mantel- 
shelf from  which  she  was  carefully  lifting  the  Venetian  glass. 

"  No !  " 

"  Neither  is  mine,"  he  said  briefly.  "  I  think  we  have  a 
great  deal  in  common,  you  and  I." 

Now  it  was  her  turn  to  be  silent,  for  that  needed  no  answer 
that  she  could  give.  The  work  of  clearing  the  rooms  of 
anything  which  they  knew  that  Fate  or  Eldred  held  dear, 
went  on  between  them  with  hardly  another  personal  word,  all 
the  long  sunny  afternoon.  Fate  herself  appeared  once,  and 
told  them  to  come  up  to  Eldred's  room  for  tea;  but  she 
seemed  satisfied  to  leave  them  to  themselves,  and  remained 
contentedly  with  her  husband  while  they  busied  themselves  on 
her  behalf. 

"  I  feel  like  a  Sultana  at  least,  issuing  commands  and  not 
stirring  a  finger  myself,"  she  said,  when  her  friends  at  last 
presented  themselves  in  the  sick-room.  "  Eldred,  isn't  it 
nice  to  see  other  people  wearing  themselves  out  like  this  in 
our  service  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  you  must  be  awfully  tired,"  Eldred  said,  from 
the  easy  chair  to  which  he  had  been"  promoted.  He  had  not 
tested  his  strength  by  going  downstairs  as  yet,  but  he  walked 
about  the  upper  rooms  leaning  on  Fate's  arm. 

"  Mr.  Vaughan  is  in  the  last  stage  of  exhaustion,  I  think," 

16* 


244  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

said  Patricia  gravely.     "  It  is  because  he  would  begin  before 
me.     But  I  am  quite  fresh,  and  shall  finish  up  after  tea." 

"  You  really  need  not  do  any  more,  Patricia !  Marion 
Rodney  promised  to  come  to-morrow  too,  and  see  the  last  of 
us.  We  leave  by  the  morning  train,  and  she  is  going  to  take 
Phlumpie  to  Battersea.  How  will  you  like  that,  Mans?  "  she 
added  to  the  white  ball  of  fur  cuddled  down  on  Eldred's  knee. 

"  But  I  really  should  like  to  just  finish  putting  your  china 
away !  "  said  Patricia  with  an  eagerness  of  which  she  felt 
ashamed  the  next  instant.  "  You  cannot  leave  all  that  old 
Derby  out  for  three  months,  and  at  the  mercy  of  any  char- 
woman you  send  in  to  clean  up  !  "  She  had  a  subtle  reluctance 
to  own  that  she  had  finished  all  she  could  do,  and  to  go  home 
to  the  empty  house  that  waited  and  listened.  It  seemed  to 
her  the  borders  of  the  Land  of  Beulah — that  when  she  left 
Sunnington  to-day  she  left  behind  her  one  period  of  her  life, 
and  a  vague,  sweet  possibility  or  sense  of  happier  circum- 
stances. Vaughan  also  seemed  as  inclined  to  go  on  working 
as  herself — at  least  he  accompanied  her  down  to  the  lower 
rooms  again,  but  instead  of  doing  anything  on  his  own 
account  was  more  inclined  to  follow  her  about  and  criticise 
her  efforts,  if  she  would  not  let  him  assist  her. 

"  I  suppose  you  also  are  leaving  town  ?  "  he  said  suddenly 
as  Patricia  slowly  turned  the  key  in  the  last  cupboard,  and 
acknowledged,  even  to  herself,  that  it  was  all  done. 

"  I  am  going  to  some  friends  very  shortly,"  she  said, 
"They  have  a  house-party  for  the  shooting,  I  believe." 

"  Ah  ! "  The  old  envious  vision  of  the  life  he  would  have 
liked  rose  up  before  Vaughan,  and  brought  the  carping  tone 
back  into  his  voice.  "  That  is  the  pleasantest  holiday  after 
all — ^better  than  going  abroad  to  some  overcrowded  French 
place,  or  the  Italian  Riviera.     Are  you  going  to  Scotland  ?  " 

"No,  to  Chilcote — ^Lord  Harbinger's  place  in  the  Mid- 
lands." 

"  I  hope  you  will  enjoy  yourself !  "  said  Vaughan  conven- 
tionally. Then,  unexpectedly,  the  real  side  of  the  man  broke 
down  the  guard  that  barriers  the  sexes,  and  he  spoke  to  her 
simply  what  was  true. 

"  I  wish  I  were  going  to  be  there  too  !  "  he  said.  "  I  should 
like  to  be  one  of  a  house-party  with  you." 

And  Patricia  paid  him  a  great  compliment,  for  instead  of 
meeting  it  with  her  usual  composure,  she  "  suddenly,  sweetly, 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  245 

strangely  blushed,"  though  her  voice  was  merely  courteous 
as  she  said,  "  I  wish  you  were,  too." 

That  was  their  real  good-bye,  because  the  brief  time  that 
passed  while  she  was  still  in  the  house,  and  even  when  he 
walked  to  the  gate  with  her,  held  nothing  that  she  cared  to 
remember.  She  was  not  going  by  train  to-day;  the  motor 
was  again  in  requisition,  and  Vaughan  put  her  into  it  as 
usual.  There  was  one  moment  indeed  when  he  stood  with 
his  hand  on  the  door,  and  looked  at  her,  his  lips  parted  as 
though  he  were  going  to  speak.  But  in  the  strange  pause 
wherein  her  heart  stood  still  as  with  a  sweet  surprise,  he 
closed  his  lips  again  and  drew  back.  All  the  way  home, 
through  the  mists  of  the  early  autumn  evening,  she  thought 
of  that  subtle  restraint.  Had  it  been  Caryl  Lexiter  at  the 
carriage-door,  he  would  have  spoken. 


246 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

"The  Great  Gods  pity  thee,  when  Time's  reverses 
Have  shown  the  end  of  all  their  loving-mercies  ! — 
And  thou  shalt  pray  them  rather  for  their  curses." 

Benison. 

There  is  a  despair  which  does  not  interfere  with  ordinary 
avocations,  and  which  is  of  so  still  a  quality  that  it  is  not 
apparent  until  in  some  supreme  moment  it  arises  to  prove 
mightier  than  all  the  overlying  outward  aspect.  Neverthe- 
less, it  is  always  there,  as  in  Giles  Mornington's  case,  at  the 
root  of  things,  and  forms  the  foundation  of  some  lives  that 
seem  passed  ordinarily  enough  amongst  hopeful  men.  There 
was  nothing  of  tragedy  about  Mornington,  even  his  pre- 
maturely grey  hair  passing  notice;  and  he  was  accounted  a 
pleasant  enough  fellow  at  his  Club — the  more  so  in  that  he 
said  so  little — while  his  being  a  shrewd  financier  was  never 
called  in  question.  The  relations  of  his  domestic  life,  which 
took  Lady  Vera  to  the  Continent  and  himself  to  Rye,  were 
so  common  that  they  were  merely  expressed  in  the  usual 
remark,  "  They  don't  hit  it  off — that's  all."  And  then  every- 
one who  knew  Lady  Vera  pronounced  her  a  fast  woman,  and 
regarded  her  estrangement  from  a  mere  husband  as  the  only 
rational  outcome  of  her  temperament. 

When  he  was  at  Rye,  Mr.  Mornington  became  simply  a 
golfer,  just  as  in  town  he  was  to  the  majority  simply  a  finan- 
cier, the  whole  energies  of  the  man  being  absorbed  in  his 
occupation  of  the  time,  whatever  that  might  chance  to  be. 
This  gift  of  concentration  had  made  him  a  successful  finan- 
cier because  he  had  begun  in  the  heat  of  his  youth;  but  it 
had  not  made  him  a  really  great  golfer,  though  he  was  a 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  247 

medium  player.  His  caddy  sometimes  backed  him,  privately, 
against  another  member  of  the  Club,  when  he  was  in  form, 
but  more  often  adverse  judgment  was  pronounced  on  Morn- 
ington  by  the  infallible  statement  of  the  man  who  carried 
his  clubs,  and  that  is  the  sternest  tribunal  of  the  Royal  Game. 

"  Mr.  Mornington  'e  can  drive  at  times,  and  'e  can  put, 
and  'e  can  approach.  But  I'm  blessed  if  'e  can  do  all  them 
things  together  at  the  same  game.  'E  'as  'is  driving  morn- 
ings, and  'is  putting  mornings,  but  there's  times  when  'e  can 
no  more  'ole  a  ball  than  a  six-months'  learner.  'E'll  get  a 
good  straight  drive,  and  then  'e'll  foozle  'is  approach.  Now 
that  may  be  good  practice  play,  but  it  ain't  Golf !  " 

Nevertheless,  Mr.  Mornington  never  seemed  to  weary  of 
his  pursuit  of  perfection,  and  most  week-ends  saw  him  at  the 
Marsh  Grange,  from  which  he  drove  down  to  Rye  and  went 
out  to  Camber.  When  Lord  Lowndes  joined  him  in  October 
they  played  a  match  together,  but  he  was  a  much  better 
player  than  his  guest.  Lord  Lowndes  had  not  the  necessary 
concentration  for  golf,  and,  like  Mornington,  he  had  come 
to  it  too  late  in  life. 

"  If  it  were  chess,  my  dear  fellow,  I  would  give  you  a 
knight ! "  he  said  with  his  genial  laugh,  as  they  started  for 
the  links  on  the  Sunday  morning.  "  But  as  it's  golf,  you 
must  give  me  a  stroke  a  hole  to  make  anything  of  a  game." 

"  If  I  revenge  myself  for  the  licking  you  gave  me  in  the 
billiard-room  last  night  it  will  be  only  fair,"  said  Mornington, 
gathering  up  the  reins  with  a  carelessness  that  made  his 
companion  vaguely  uncomfortable.  Lord  Lowndes  was  too 
good  a  driver  himself  to  be  careless.  He  might  risk  a  pace 
or  a  shave  that  other  men  would  not  dare,  but  it  was  merely 
the  sureness  of  experience,  and  he  was  never  reckless.  The 
dog-cart  had  been  waiting  at  the  door  for  sortie  minutes,  and 
the  mare  was  fresh.  She  was  trying  to  pull  Momington's 
arms  out  of  the  sockets,  but  though  he  was  strong  enough 
to  hold  her,  he  did  not  bestow  much  notice  upon  her,  and 
the  minute  she  quieted  down  he  drove  with  the  lax  wrist 
that  was  culpable  to  the  horseman  at  his  side.  Lord  Lowndes 
secretly  slipped  his  strong  hand  round  the  side  rail  to  hold 
on,  and  wished  with  all  his  heart  that  Mornington  would 
allow  him  to  change  into  the  driving  seat. 

"  I  was  in  wonderful  form  last  night,"  he  said  absently. 
**  I  don't  know  when  I've  made  a  break  like  that  second  one 


248  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

of  mine.  By  the  way,  Mornington,  doesn't  your  daughter 
ever  come  down  here  ?  " 

There  was  no  perceptible  hesitation  before  he  received  an 
answer. 

"  Patricia  has  only  been  in  England  since  March,  and  T 
don't  think  she  has  found  time  to  come  down  as  yet." 

"  Oh !  I  asked  because  I  know  she  is  still  in  town,  and  I 
rather  expected  to  find  her  here." 

Perhaps  the  wish  was  father  to  the  thought,  for  he  appre- 
ciated ladies'  society,  and  thought  Patricia  "  a  charming 
creature ! "  That  Mornington  did  not  reply  escaped  his 
notice  from  the  fact  that  they  were  descending  Rye  Hill  at 
a  smart  pace,  and  he  honestly  expected  any  moment  to  be 
flung  out  of  the  cart.  Momington's  attention,  too,  seemed 
concentrated  on  his  horse,  to  whom  he  remarked  "Whoa, 
mare !  "  and  pulled  her  in  before  the  turn  towards  the  Town 
Salts  which  lies  below  the  Landgate.  It  was  a  sad-coloured 
October  day,  and  the  windless  Marshes  were  green  and  grey 
and  sunless.  They  seemed  to  run  on  and  on  for  ever,  and 
to  absorb  and  deaden  every  other  feature  of  the  landscape. 
Here  and  there  a  far-off  patch  of  sheep  grazed  against  the 
green  levels,  but  even  the  tram-lines  and  the  ugly  black 
engine  and  carriages  were  but  as  specks  in  the  enormous 
insistence  of  Romney  Marsh.  It  affected  Lord  Lowndes, 
who  was  always  sensitive  to  climate  and  surroundings,  with 
a  sense  of  resignation  that  he  found  infinitely  depressing. 

"  I  should  think  you  must  find  it  dull  enough  to  cut  your 
throat  when  you  are  down  here  alone !  "  he  said,  as  they 
trotted  over  the  little  bridge  and  jerked  up,  as  by  a  miracle, 
at  the  station.  "  God  bless  my  soul !  I  should  fill  the  house, 
if  I  were  you  !  " 

"  I  am  afraid  the  Grange  hardly  offers  enough  diversion 
to  attract  a  house-party !  "  said  Mornington  drily.  His  eyes, 
half  stealthily,  went  out  to  the  quiet  Marshes  as  if  they  found 
something  there  that  understood  his  secret  mind.  The  broad- 
breasted  river  with  its  red-sailed  boats  broke  the  stretch  of 
land  in  the  foreground,  but  even  here  the  extreme  flatness 
gave  that  same  passive  air  of  offering  no  resistance.  The 
banks  were  as  low  and  unbroken  as  those  of  an  Egyptian 
canal,  and  the  river  wound  away  like  a  broad,  bright  riband 
and  was  lost  amongst  the  rich  green  pasture  lands.  Far  off 
on   the  abrupt  cliff-side  he  could   see  the  chimneys  of  his 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  249 

house  among  the  dark  patches  of  timber,  and  immediately 
below  the  cliffs  that  the  woods  only  invaded  when  the  sea 
left  them,  began  the  Marshes.  They  had  meant  something 
to  him  for  so  long,  the  whole  place  had  become  such  a  single 
haven  of  peace  in  his  jaded  life,  that  it  was  no  wonder  he 
looked  to  their  vast  flats  disappearing  into  distance  as  if  there 
were  some  secret  understanding  between  them.  Something 
of  the  resignation  of  the  scene  which  had  oppressed  Lord 
Lowndes  was  in  the  quiet  figure  of  the  man  who  was  merely 
the  ordinary  golfer,  keen  on  the  game,  to  the  world  at  large. 
But  Lord  Lowndes'  ver}'  natural  enquiry  had  drawn  a  shadow 
between  him  and  the  Marshes — the  shadow  of  a  girl  in  a  cool 
summer  dress,  with  brown  eyes  that  were  so  ready  to  help 
and  to  sympathise,  if  only  they  had  been  able  to  read  through 
the  silent  barrier  he  held  between  her  and  him.  She  was 
standing  at  the  foot  of  the  great  staircase  in  his  huge,  loveless 
house  that  was  no  home  .....  she  had  always  stood  there 
in  his  mental  fancy  ever  since. 

As  if  the  thought  communicated  itself  by  some  process  of 
telepathy,  Lord  Lowndes  harked  back  to  his  former  subject. 

"  Does  your  daughter  play  golf,  Mornington  ?  " 

"  Horses  are  rather  Patricia's  hobby,"  said  Mornington 
composedly.     "  She  rides  a  good  deal." 

"Are  they?  Sensible  woman!  They  are  mine  too.  But 
it's  an  odd  coincidence  " — Lord  Lowndes  laughed  without 
the  least  intentional  malice.  "  Do  you  know  that  she  was 
nicknamed  '  Sceptre  '  at  the  sporting  clubs  ?  Sceptre  was  the 
most  masculine  mare  ever  foaled,  and  the  men  found  some 
sort  of  likeness  to  your  daughter  in  the  quality." 

"  I  should  hardly  have  described  her  as  unfeminine !  " 

"  My  dear  man,  pray  don't  mistake  me !  It  was  a  compli- 
ment rather  than  any  detraction  that  was  intended.  There 
is  an  absence  of  feminine  pettiness  about  Miss  '  Nougat '  that 
makes  one  think  of  her  as  having  the  same  breadth  as  a  man. 
Sceptre  was  the  same  magnificent  sort  of  creature  among 
horses — a  daughter  of  Persimmon,  too  !  " 

He  had  forgotten  that  old  scar  of  a  story  that  should  have 
warned  him  off  the  indiscretion.  His  ready  laugh  betrayed 
that  he  thought  himself  paying  another  compliment  in  liken- 
ing Mornington  to  the  Royal  horse.  But  a  most  extra- 
ordinary change  crossed  Mornington's  face  at  the  words,  as 
if  all  the  facial  muscles  contracted  faintly  under  excruciating 


250  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

pain.  Lord  Lowndes  was,  happily,  not  aware  of  his  own 
blunder,  and  when  Mornington  turned  his  face  to  him  the 
wicked  mask  of  pain  was  gone.  In  the  same  instant  a  new 
vision  of  Nougat  had  crossed  his  mind — she  was  still  stand- 
ing there,  that  tall  girl  with  the  kind  eyes,  and  her  voice 
rang  in  his  ears  : 

"  I  want  you  to  do  me  a  favour.     Will  you  ask  me  to  Rye  ?  " 

He  had  not  asked  her  to  Rye,  but  the  suggestion  that  he 
should  do  so  was  so  obvious  that  Lord  Lowndes  had  noticed 
the  omission.  If  he  left  the  situation  unexplained,  it  might 
seem  too  significant  to  be  just  to  her,  and  drag  her  into  the 
established  estrangement  with  his  wife.  He  had  at  least 
been  scrupulously  just  to  her  throughout  her  life,  though  it 
had  blighted  his  own.     He  lied  now,  slowly  and  intentionally. 

"  The  Harbingers  are  in  town  this  week,  passing  through 
from  the  Continent.  Patricia  stayed  in  order  to  see  Lady 
Harbinger,  who  is  a  great  friend  of  hers — she  did  not  want 
to  leave,  even  to  come  to  Rye  for  a  few  days. — Here's  the 
train,  late  as  usual." 

Lord  Lowndes  was  not  a  keen  golfer,  but  he  played  with 
the  momentary  energy  and  enthusiasm  he  brought  to  all 
things  he  attempted.  His  drives  were  his  best  performance, 
his  square  figure  being  chiefly  remarkable  for  its  strength, 
though  he  wasted  some  of  his  energy  upon  the  ground.  The 
morning  passed  uneventfully  enough  between  the  grey-green 
down  and  the  sand  dunes,  with  the  smooth  inaccessible  sea 
lapping  under  the  low  clifi^  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  great 
Marshes  on  the  other.  By  lunch  time,  Mornington  was 
"  dormie "  at  the  fifteenth  hole,  and  the  sixteenth  resulted 
in  a  half ;  so  the  game  was  finished,  and  Lord  Lowndes  found 
himself  beaten  without  much  regret  on  his  own  part.  It  was 
diflScult  to  disturb  his  casual  indifference  to  the  result  of  a 
game  unless  he  lost  heavily  over  it  in  money. 

"  We  will  go  and  lunch,  if  you  don't  mind,  and  get  some- 
thing to  eat  before  those  other  fellows,"  said  Mornington 
carelessly,  leading  the  way  along  the  left-hand  valley  between 
two  ranges  of  sandhills,  instead  of  skirting  the  ground.  He 
was  taking  a  short  cut  to  the  Club  House,  not  seeing, 
apparently,  that  some  of  the  players  left  on  the  course  had 
reached  the  high  seventeenth  teeing  ground,  where  he  might 
cross  their  line  of  fire.  Lord  Lowndes  was  a  trifle  behind, 
guarded  by  his  host's  figure,  and  was  speaking. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  251 

"  Who  was  that  man  who  passed  you  just  now  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know — someone  down  for  the  week-end,  I  expect. 
He  is  not  a  member  of  this  Club." 

"He  reminds  me  of  Ineaghsleigh — not  the  present  man, 
but  the  last  holder  of  the  title — Look  out,  MorningtonI 
Good  God !  " 

They  had  not  heard  a  warnmg  "  Fore !  "  if  it  had  been 
given,  and  the  very  man  of  whom  they  had  been  speaking 
had  made  his  drive,  and  pulled  the  ball,  as  he  certainly  did 
not  intend,  so  that  it  swerved  through  the  air  towards  Mom- 
ington's  figure.  Perhaps  Lord  Lowndes'  exclamation  startled 
him  instead  of  fulfilling  its  intention,  for  without  ducking 
he  stood  still,  almost  as  if  awaiting  the  accident,  and  the  ball, 
passing  his  head  by  a  few  inches,  curved  downwards  and 
found  a  resting-place  some  yards  away. 

"  Heavens !  what  a  narrow  escape !  What  was  that  ass 
doing  ?  "  said  Lord  Lowndes  excitedly,  taking  his  host  by 
the  arm  and  walking  him  out  of  danger  hurriedly.  "  You 
might  have  been  killed  1 " 

"  I  fancy  I  was  in  the  wrong.  I  did  not  hear  them  call 
'  Fore ! '  and  that  ball  was  certainly  pulled  very  badly,  but  I 
should  have  kept  off  the  course,"  said  Momington,  in  a 
curious  level  tone  of  voice.  He  looked  down  at  the  little 
white  ball  as  they  passed  it  with  an  inscrutable  expression ; 
it  was  almost  new,  and  its  excessive  hardness  and  weight 
made  themselves  very  apparent  to  the  eye  of  the  expert.  The 
deadly  little  missile  seemed  to  absorb  all  his  attention,  for  he 
took  no  notice  of  the  angry  expostulations  of  the  stranger 
who  had  nearly  caused  the  accident,  and  did  not  even  answer 
the  question — punctuated  with  bad  language — as  to  why  he 
had  got  in  the  way? 

"  My  dear  fellow,  it  turned  me  quite  sick !  "  said  Lord 
Lowndes  seriously,  and  indeed  his  hand  shook  as  he  took 
the  whisky  and  soda  he  promptly  ordered  in  the  Club  House, 
and  his  face  was  paler  than  its  usual  healthy  red. 

Mornington's  hand  did  not  shake ;  he  smiled  in  a  curious, 
mirthless  fashion,  and  talked  even  less  than  was  usual  to  him. 

Whether  it  were  the  shock  of  the  averted  accident,  or  that 
he  soon  tired  of  the  game.  Lord  Lowndes  would  not  play 
again  after  lunch.  Momington  was  going  to  have  another 
round,  but  he  invited  his  guest  to  drive  back  to  the  Grange 
if  he  felt  disinclined  for  more,  and  leave  him  to  follow.     The 


252  AS   YE  HAVE   SOWN. 

cart  would  be  at  the  tram  terminus,  by  his  orders,  in  case 
either  of  them  wished  to  return. 

"I  think  I'll  take  your  offer,"  Lord  Lowndes  said  with 
secret  relief.  "  I  have  had  about  enough,  and  I  am  not  nearly 
good  enough  at  it  to  give  you  a  decent  game.  Don't  go 
walking  about  the  links  when  other  men  are  playing,  though, 
Mornington !  " 

"  Oh,  that  is  all  right,"  responded  the  financier  carelessly. 
"  I  often  take  a  short  cut  to  the  Club  House,  and  nothing 
comes  of  it." 

"  It  is  the  old  story  of  the  pitcher  going  to  the  well — when 
there  are  such  uncertain  players  about !  You  don't  want  to 
commit  suicide,  I  suppose  ?  " 

Mornington  laughed  without  answering.  It  was  a  real 
laugh  of  such  obvious  amusement  that  Lord  Lowndes  laughed 
too.  Nor  did  it  occur  to  him  until  he  was  in  the  tram,  that 
it  was  the  first  time  in  all  his  experience  of  the  man  that  he 
had  ever  heard  him  laugh. 

"He's  a  queer  fellow,"  he  mused,  as  he  was  rattled  back 
across  the  sad  flat  fields  where  the  cattle  stood  munching 
the  rich  grass.  "  And  not  a  lively  companion.  I  think  I'll 
go  up  to  town  to-morrow — take  the  morning  train,  and  see 
how  Pic  is  getting  on.  I  would  much  rather  drive  myself 
home  than  let  Mornington  drive  me,  anyhow  !  " 

The  mare  behaved  better  with  his  firm  hand  on  the  reins, 
and  as  if  she  recognised  a  master  with  the  intuition  of  all 
horses.  Lord  Lowndes  enjoyed  the  lonely  drive,  and  the 
sense  of  security  after  his  anxiety  of  the  morning,  and  decided 
to  think  twice  before  trusting  his  bones  to  Momington's  tender 
mercies  again.  His  host  did  not  return  until  it  grew  too  dusk 
to  play,  and  the  intervening  hours  Lord  Lowndes  spent  in 
yawning  and  talking  to  the  authorities  of  the  stables,  his 
determination  to  leave  on  the  morrow  strengthening  as  time 
passed.  The  Grange  was  not  a  pretentious  house ;  it  had 
some  twenty  bedrooms,  and  six  or  seven  sitting-rooms,  but 
save  the  billiard-room  none  of  these  were  large.  The  stables, 
however,  were  more  modern  than  the  rest  of  the  building, 
and  capable  of  accommodating  many  more  horses  than  were 
in  stall  there.  Giles  Mornington  kept  sufl5cient  horses  for  his 
use  at  Rye,  and  no  more.  Lord  Lowndes  and  the  grooms 
agreed  that  it  was  a  pity  to  see  so  much  good  space  empty. 

"  I  should  buy  some  of  Loftus'  stud,  if  I  were  you,"  he 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  253 

advised  his  host  confidentially  before  leaving  on  the  morrow. 
"  He  got  rather  dipped  over  Africa,  and  I  hear  they  are  going 
up  to  Tattersall's.  They  are  sure  to  be  worth  having — there 
never  was  a  Lexiter  yet  who  was  not  a  good  judge  of  a 
horse !  " 

"  I  have  enough  for  my  use,  and  if  one  of  them  is  sick,  T 
send  down  into  Rye  and  hire,"  said  Mornington  simply.  "  It 
is  not  as  if  I  kept  a  big  establishment  here  as  I  do  in  town." 
"  But,  my  dear  fellow,  to  sit  behind  horses  hired  down 
here  must  be  the  devil !  "  protested  Lord  Lowndes.  "  And 
you  have  all  that  great  stable  standing  nearly  empty !  " 

"  I  have  sometimes  thought  of  having  another  horse  and 
trap,"  Mornington  said ;  he  spoke  rather  slowly.  They  were 
standing  side  by  side  on  the  steps  again,  waiting  for  the  cart 
that  was  to  take  Lord  Lowndes  to  the  station.  It  struck  the 
latter,  as  he  glanced  at  his  host,  that  he  was  inwardly  amused 
at  some  thought  he  did  not  express.  "  But  it  hardly  seems 
to  me  worth  while,"  he  ended  indifferently,  as  the  cart 
appeared.  "  Good-bye  !  I  am  sorry  we  could  not  travel  up 
together." 

"  Oh,  so  am  I — and  sorry  that  my  time  here  is  up !  Been 
most  delightful  visit,"  said  Lord  Lowndes,  who  was  always 
most  effusive  when  boredom  had  driven  him  into  inventing  a 
desperate  excuse  and  leaving  before  the  appointed  date. 
"  But  I  suppose  you'll  not  be  staying  here  straight  on,  will 
you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no — I  shall  be  back  in  town  towards  the  end  of  the 
week,"  Mornington  said  deliberately.  "  I  have — ^business — 
that  will  bring  me  back." 

He  had  not  offered  to  drive  his  guest  to  the  station  this 
time,  to  Lord  Lowndes'  very  great  relief.  Looking  back 
on  his  week-end  at  the  Marsh  Grange,  when  he  was  once 
more  in  London,  he  was  conscious  of  a  vague  discomfort, 
the  sense  of  communication  with  a  being  as  much  out  of  tone 
with  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  total  stranger,  or  still  more  some 
foreigner  who  could  not  even  speak  the  same  language.  It 
was  as  if  Mornington  had  suddenly  become  detached  from 
the  normal,  comfortable  world  of  every  day,  and  were  looking 
at  him  across  a  great  gulf,  though  he  had  no  definite  reason 
for  the  impression.  And  as  he  had  alwavs  liked  the  man, 
little  as  he  had  known  of  him,  and  had  felt  no  such  discom- 
fort in  his  presence  before,  he  could  only  suppose  that  his 


254  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

early  life  and  atmosphere  still  lingered  and  divided  him  from 
the  class  which  was  Lord  Lowndes'  natural  element.  A 
casual  meeting  at  the  Club  might  not  reveal  this,  but  when 
he  came  to  stay  in  Mornington's  house  it  made  itself  felt. 
Afterwards  he  remembered  that  sensation  of  discomfort,  and 
changed  his  mind  as  to  its  cause ;  but  at  the  time  he  could 
find  no  other  reason. 

He  looked  in  at  his  favourite  Club  before  driving  round  to 
Piccadilly  to  enquire  for  the  Duke,  and  there,  in  the  nearly 
empty  smoking-room,  he  encountered  a  tall  man  with  his  arm 
in  a  sling,  which  diverted  his  mind  from  Momington — Caryl 
Lexiter,  in  effect,  and  evidently  in  the  wars. 

"  I'm  an  invalid !  "  he  explained  in  answer  to  Lord  Lowndes' 
enquiry.  "  You  know  that  red  stallion  of  my  brother's  ?  He 
comes  of  the  Bete  Rouge  stock.  He  was  to  be  sold,  and 
Loftus  asked  me  to  look  him  over,  but  when  I  went  into  the 
stable  the  brute  got  his  teeth  into  my  arm.  I  am  up  to  see 
Sir  Richard  about  it,  as  our  local  doctor  advised  me  to  do  so." 

"  A  horse-bite  is  a  nasty  business,"  said  Lord  Lowndes, 
with  a  glance  of  no  particular  liking  at  the  weary,  handsome 
face.  Lexiter  looked  graver  and  more  lined  than  usual,  and 
the  beautiful,  self-indulgent  mouth  was  rather  set,  in  spite  of 
his  perfect  composure.  "  It  ought  certainly  to  be  attended 
to." 

"I  know.  I  await  Sir  Richard's  decision  as  to  whether  I 
am  to  lose  my  arm." 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that,  I  hope !  "  said  Lord  Lowndes,  with  a 
feeling  that  was  more  shocked  than  admiring.  Yet  Lexiter 
spoke  without  any  bravado,  and  was  simply  facing  facts.  One 
virtue  at  least  he  had,  by  inheritance  and  training — the  quiet 
physical  courage  that  was  a  tradition  in  his  family.  Lord 
Lowndes  admitted  him  plucky — but  then,  of  course,  all  men 
decently  born  and  bred  were  plucky.  If  they  had  been  less 
game  than  the  racehorse,  who  owns  the  same  qualities,  he 
would  have  suspected  a  flaw  in  the  pedigree.  What  dis- 
gusted him  in  Lexiter  was  a  certain  flippancy  that  he  always 
detected  even  when  Caryl  appeared  most  serious. 

He  left  him  going  to  Harley  Street  to  learn  his  fate,  and 
himself  drove  to  the  Duke's  house,  where  he  found  he 
was  not  the  only  visitor.  Patncia  Momington  being  already 
in  possession  of  the  familiar  sitting-room.  She  was  the  bearer 
of  good  news,  for  the  Duke  laad  that  day  been  pronounced 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  255 

sufficiently  convalescent  to  leave  his  bedroom  and  come  and 
sit  in  his  invalid-chair  for  a  time.  Providence  had  seen  fit 
to  bestow  a  timely  thunderstorm  upon  the  village  of  Hyde, 
whereby  a  hayrick  had  caught  fire,  and  a  man  been  killed, 
and  much  damage  done ;  but  Sir  Richard  Burford  and 
Maunders  offered  up  private  thanksgivings,  for  the  disaster 
attracted  the  Duchess  back  to  Dorsetshire  irresistibly,  after 
one  brief  half  hour  spent  by  her  husband's  bedside,  during 
which  she  cheerfully  warned  him  not  to  trust  to  his  improve- 
ment, predicted  a  relapse,  and  likened  him  to  Ahaziah.  She 
took  her  protege,  the  footman  Henry,  back  with  her  to  Hyde, 
his  pasty  face  suggesting  to  her  that  what  he  wanted  was 
change  of  air,  and  homoeopathic  remedies,  but  she  left  the 
short-legged  retriever  in  town  as  a  companion  for  the  invalid. 
Patricia  had  been  waiting  for  his  Grace,  with  as  much  patience 
as  if  it  were  a  royal  audience,  for  half  an  hour  already  when 
Lord  Lowndes  arrived,  and  they  sat  down  together  to  expect 
his  appearance. 

"  Why,  this  is  capital !  "  said  Lord  Lowndes,  beaming.  "  I 
had  no  idea  that  he  would  be  up  for  weeks  yet.  The  old 
rascal !  he  must  have  been  shamming  worse  than  he  really 
was.  And  how  are  you.  Miss  Nougat?  I  left  your  father 
only  this  morning.  He  is  too  devoted  to  the  golf-links  to 
come  up  for  a  day  or  so." 

"  Ah  !     You  have  been  at  Rye  !  " 

"  Yes.  Surely  you  know  that  ?  He  told  me  why  you 
couldn't  come — stayed  in  town  to  see  Lady  Harbinger,  wasn't 
it?" 

Patricia  looked  at  him  with  an  expression  he  did  not  under- 
stand in  her  brown  eyes.  "  Ah  h — he  told  you  that?  "  she  said 
slowly.  "  Yes,  Chiffon  is  in  town  this  week — passing 
through,  of  course.  No  one  who  respects  themselves  stays 
in  town  now,  except  such  vagabonds  as  myself  and  the  Duke." 

"  Someone  else  is  in  town,  and  on  a  very  nasty  errand," 
said  Lord  Lowndes.  "  I  stumbled  over  a  pair  of  long  legs 
at  the  Club  and  found  Lexiter.  He  has  had  a  bite  from  one 
of  his  brother's  horses,  and  is  up  to  see  Burford." 

"  How  horrible  !     Is  he  much  hurt  ?  " 

"  He  doesn't  know,  but  it's  always  a  risk.  He  takes  it 
very  coolly — told  me  he  was  going  to  learn  this  afternoon  if 
he  must  lose  his  arm  or  no." 

"  I  never  doubted  his  physical  courage,  did  you  ? "  said 


256  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

Patricia  quietly,  with  a  little  added  colour  to  her  face.  She 
did  not  get  an  opinion  from  Lord  Lowndes,  however,  because 
at  that  moment  the  door  opened  to  admit  Maunders  with  the 
Duke,  who  was  supporting  himself  partly  by  his  servant's  arm, 
partly  by  his  well-worn  stick.  He  moved  very  shakily,  but 
the  fine  face  was  blurred  to  Patricia  through  a  sudden  rush 
of  tears,  and  she  could  not  judge  of  the  effects  of  his  illness 
— she  only  reaUsed,  when  she  saw  him  again,  how  dreadful 
her  anxiety  had  been,  and  how  fond  she  was  of  Mm.  Behind 
his  master  came  Fat,  walking  very  slowly  on  his  broad  spatu- 
late  feet,  his  affectionate  wet  nose  Just  touching  the  Duke's 
trousers.  Even  the  sight  of  Lord  Lowndes  did  not  lure  him 
away  on  this  occasion, 

"  Ah ! "  said  the  Duke  with  a  little  smile  for  both  his  visi- 
tors. "  Now  this  is  very  nice !  It's  my  first  day  out  of  that 
stuffy  room,  and  you've  come  to  celebrate  it.  Maunders, 
move  my  chair  a  little  so  that  Miss  Mornington  can  sit  beside 
me.     No!  no!  don't  be  an  ass!     That's  the  wrong  way." 

"  Yes,  your  Grace !  "  said  Maunders  submissively,  and  if 
his  carefully  restrained  face  had  been  allowed  to  express  any- 
thing it  would  have  looked  as  if  he  were  delighted  to  be 
abused  again  in  his  master's  usual  fashion.  He  helped  the 
Duke  into  his  chair  and  arranged  the  little  table  near  him 
with  an  attention  that  was  more  like  a  woman  than  a  man, 
placing  the  cigarettes  and  even  the  spirit  stand  before  he 
condescended  to  assist  Patricia  at  all.  She  stood  by  smiling 
in  a  rather  whimsical  fashion,  while  Lord  Lowndes  took  up 
his  usual  attitude  on  the  hearthrug,  planted  very  squarely  on 
his  feet,  and  Fat  lay  down  in  the  centre  of  the  group  with  a 
little  sigh  of  content  that  sounded  terribly  human. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  were  ever  very  bad.  Pic — ^you  skulked 
just  to  give  us  a  fright,  and  make  Miss  Nougat  pay  you  more 
attention  !  "  said  Lord  Lowndes  genially.  "  The  Duke  is  a  re- 
gular fraud,  you  know,"  he  added  to  Patricia.  "  That's  how  I 
always  describe  him  to  my  friends — a  regular  fraud !  In 
fact,  fronti  nulla  -fides  !  " 

"  Oh,  this  Latin  !  "  groaned  the  Duke.  "  It's  the  only  sign 
of  learning  ever  apparent  in  Lowndes,  Nougat,  and  so  he 
harps  upon  it  to  make  us  believe  that  he  was  properly  edu- 
cated. When  he  lets  himself  go,  he  naturally  talks  horsy 
slang,  don't  you  know  !  " 

"  I  see ! "  said  Patricia  gravely,    stooping   to  pull    Fat's 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  257 

Astrakhan  ears  through  her  gentle  fingers.  "  I  shall  beware 
of  you  both  as  gigantic  frauds  !  By  the  way,  Duke  "  (there 
was  a  twinkle  in  her  eye),  "  I  wonder  that  the  Duchess  left 
Fat  with  you.     She  seemed  resentul  of  your  influence." 

The  Duke  began  to  laugh  also.  "  She  finds  it  useless  to 
try  and  counteract  it,  I  think,"  he  acknowledged.  "  She 
objected  to  my  checking  his  growth  in  the  first  instance,  and 
then  I  used  to  tell  people  he  was  a  Turkoman  dog,  and  that 
his  large  feet  and  short  legs  were  the  result  of  a  particular 
breed  which  were  accustomed  to  run  for  miles  over  the  hard 
sand  and  stony  country  of  Persia.  Wonderful  how  they  be- 
lieved me,  don't  you  know  1  " 

"  The  poor  Duchess  !  I  am  sure  she  thought  your  romances 
wicked  and  deliberate  story-telling ! " 

"  Yes,  she  used  to  contradict  and  explain  that  he  would 
have  been  a  retriever,  if  it  had  not  been  for  my  inhuman 
treatment.  So  I  thought  I  would  prove  that  I  had  not  killed 
the  retrieving  instinct,  and  I  taught  him  to  fetch  all  sorts  of 
things,  and  bring  them  to  me,  quietly.  And  one  day  we  had  a 
luncheon-party — the  last  I  remember  to  have  had  at  Hyde — 
and  all  the  women  present  wore  tight  shoes,  of  course,  and 
kicked  them  off  under  the  table  as  soon  as  they  had  sat  down. 
So  I  got  Fat  up  by  me  and  sent  him  under  the  table  without 
anyone  seeing,  and  he  retrieved  all  the  shoes  and  piled  them 
under  my  chair.  You  should  have  seen  those  women's  faces 
when  they  wanted  to  leave  the  table !  There  was  such  a 
scramble ! " 

Fat  opened  one  bright  hazel  eye,  and  thumped  the  floor 
with  his  feathery  tail.  He  had  caught  the  sound  of  his  own 
recurring  name,  and  seemed  to  feel  the  Duke's  mischievous 
humour  in  the  air.     Patricia  laughed  as  she  patted  him. 

"  Have  you  heard  from  the  Duchess  since  she  left  town  ?  " 
she  said.  "  I  am  glad  she  took  Henry,  and  left  Fat  behind 
her." 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  her  this  morning — five  pages !  I  have 
only  read  two  as  yet.  Read  it  for  me.  Nougat,  and  tell  me 
what  is  in  it." 

He  offered  the  many  sheets  to  Patricia,  and  she  accepted 
them  with  a  little  smile,  reminiscent  of  the  Duchess'  per- 
sonality.    It  seemed  that  she  was  bound  to  be  voluminous. 

"Were  you  really  as  ill  as  Burford  made  out,  Pic?"  asked 
Lord  Lowndes  more  seriously.     "We  have  all  been  clamour- 

17 


258  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

ing  for  bulletins  and  wearing  ourselves  to  shaaows  over 
you." 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  the  Duke  scornfully.  "  I  was  never  very 
bad.  But  I  told  Burford  to  say  I  was,  and  keep  you  all  out. 
I  wanted  to  be  quiet." 

"  You  ought  to  take  care  of  yourself,  my  dear  fellow !  " 

"  I  knew  that  Alicia  was  here,  too ! "  added  the  Duke 
thoughtfully,  and  in  a  lower  key.  "  I  can't  think  why  women 
always  consider  it  necessary  to  come  and  afflict  their  menkind 
when  ill  and  helpless.  One  bears  it  much  better  in  ordinary 
health." 

"  Oh,  come !  I  think  the  good  lady  meant  it  kindly — I  do 
her  that  justice,  though  she  hates  me  worse  than  a  cock- 
roach ! " 

"What  is  the  good  of  meaning  well  if  the  result  is  ill? 
That's  the  kindness  that  kills.  A  good  trained  nurse  is 
preferable  every  way  to  a  wife  or  sister  or  any  relation.  You 
can  say  what  you  like  to  a  nurse,  but  you  can't  question  her 
authority.     See  what  I  mean  ?  " 

"Who  is  Mrs.  Morrison?"  asked  Patricia,  from  the  third 
page  of  the  letter. 

"  Oh,  an  awful  animal — a  great  friend  of  my  wife's.  She 
married  Morrison — Langton  Morrison — and  he  died  of  it, 
poor  chap,  and  I  don't  wonder.  Does  Alicia  talk  much  of 
her?" 

"  She  has  not  talked  of  much  else  as  yet !  " 

"  I  shall  skip  all  that  part,"  said  the  Duke  with  a  sigh.  "  I 
generally  begin  at  the  end,  and  read  the  postscript.  The 
postscript  of  Alicia's  letters  is  very  like  the  index  of  a  book 
— if  there  is  anything  I  must  knoAv  I  always  find  it  there. 
What  does  she  say  of  the  Morrison  woman  ?  " 

"  The  last  remark  she  has  made  is  that  being  a  daughter 
of  Sir  John  Sedlon,  of  course  she  is  a  lady!  I  am  afraid  I 
am  a  Radical,  for  it  is  a  corollary  that  never  convinces  me." 

"  Oh  dear  !  "  said  the  Duke.  "  I  know  so  many  ladies,  and 
so  few  gentlewomen  !  " 

The  words  recurred  to  Patricia  many  times  after  that  visit, 
and  seemed  to  her  a  shrewd  truth  of  the  social  life  around 
her.  Neither  she  nor  Lord  Lowndes  stayed  long,  for,  in  spite 
of  his  assertions  to  the  contrary,  the  gathering  lines  on  the 
Duke's  face  betrayed  that  he  was  tired.  They  left  him  turn- 
ing with  a  sigh  to  the  task  of  reading  his  wife's  letter ;  but 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  259 

Patricia,  who  had  already  waded  through  it,  looked  forward 
to  the  next  time  of  meeting  him  and  his  comments  on  the 
tangle  of  parochial  functions,  charities,  platitudes,  and 
wandering  accounts  of  her  acquaintance. 

As  she  entered  her  own  door,  the  deathly  silence  of  the 
great  house,  after  the  cheerful  chatter  in  the  Duke's  room, 
seemed  to  take  away  Patricia's  breath.  She  forgot  the 
pleasure  of  the  afternoon  in  the  sudden  spasm  of  fear  that  fell 
upon  her  all  at  once.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  in  the  very 
spot  where  she  had  stood  and  talked  to  Momington,  she 
paused  and  listened.  There  was  no  sound,  save  the  distant 
movement  of  the  workmen  who  were  not  yet  gone  home. 
Patricia  shivered  a  little,  and  went  slowly  up  to  her  own 
rooms,  past  the  white  pillars  that  looked  ghostly  sentinels 
in  the  dusk,  and  the  empty  niches  where  the  palms  no  longer 
stood.  A  winged  figure  of  Mercury,  holding  an  electric 
lamp,  made  her  nearly  start  back  and  cry  out,  though  she 
had  passed  it  hundreds  of  times  before.  Perhaps  the  heat 
and  the  enervation  of  London  during  August  and  September 
had  told  on  her  after  all,  though  she  had  laughed  at  the  idea, 
never  having  experienced  them  before.  She  was  glad,  any- 
how, to  get  into  the  comfort  and  order  of  her  own  lighted 
rooms,  where  a  servant  was  already  laying  her  solitary 
dinner. 

"  You  will  dine  upstairs  still,  miss,  I  suppose  ? "  she  said 
unexpectedly,  as  Patricia  entered. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Patricia  in  surprise.  "  Why  did  you 
ask,  Mary?" 

"Because  Mr.  Momington  is  back,  miss — he  wired  after 
you  went  out  to-day,  and  has  just  arrived." 

"  Did  he  suggest  my  dining  downstairs  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  miss !  " 

"  I  will  leave  things  as  they  are,  then.  I  expect  he  is 
tired,  and  will  dine  in  his  own  room,  or  at  the  Club." 

She  took  off  her  hat  slowly,  thinking.  Not  two  hours  ago 
Lord  Lowndes  had  told  her  that  her  father  would  not  return 
for  some  days;  yet  here  he  was  suddenly  in  his  own  house, 
arriving  like  a  thief  in  the  night.  She  felt  a  return  of  the 
terror  which  overtook  her  in  the  hall,  without  being  able  to 
give  the  least  reason  for  it.  Yet  Momington's  presence  was 
in  some  sort  a  relief  to  her,  for  it  lent  her  a  sense  of  protec- 
tion, and  ever  since  another  item  of  news  from  Lord  Lowndes 

17* 


26o  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

she  had  had  an  uneasy  consciousness  that  Caryl  Lexiter's 
being  in  London  might  result  in  their  meeting,  and  then 

The  beautiful  face  under  the  loosened  crown  of  chestnut 
hair  was  graver  even  than  its  wont — and  there  was  a  stamp 
of  a  noble  sadness  on  Patricia  always — when  she  sat  down 
to  her  dinner.  Mary,  who  waited  upon  her,  looked  with 
some  concern  at  the  shadowed  eyes,  and  discussed  it  after- 
wards with  the  diminished  remnant  of  the  household  left  in 
the  kitchen. 

"  Miss  Momington  looks  for  all  the  world  as  though  'er 
young  man  'adn't  come  up  to  the  scratch !  And  she  might 
'ave  the  pick  of  London.  Well,  some  girls  don't  like  their 
good  fortune  when  they  get  it." 

But  Patricia,  watching  a  sordid  section  of  the  London 
World  drift  past  under  her  windows,  was  thinking  of  sadder 
things  than  the  momentary  pin-pricks  of  a  love  affair. 


26 1 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"  If  your  name  at  table  by  chance  arise 
The  men  have  nought  to  say, 
And  the  virtuous  women  turn  their  eyes 
And  look  the  other  way." 

Bloom  de  Ninon. 

The  Harbingers  were  in  town,  as  Mornington  had  said,  but 
only  on  their  way  to  the  Midlands.  Patricia  went  round  to 
Park  Lane  the  morning  after  she  saw  the  Duke,  to  see 
Chiflfon  and  find  out  their  plans,  and  also  from  a  restless 
desire  to  talk  to  someone  sufficiently  feminine  to  understand 
innuendoes.  Had  Fate  Leroy  been  still  at  Sunnington  she 
would  inevitably  have  gone  to  the  older  woman  rather  than 
Chiflfon,  partly  because  Fate  was  a  stranger  to  the  central 
figure  in  her  dilemma.  But  it  was  just  the  ending  of  her 
sojourn  in  the  Land  of  Beulah  which  forced  her  reluctant 
feet  once  more  into  the  path  of  difficulty,  and  the  warning 
of  Lexiter's  presence  in  town  drove  her  at  last  to  that  decision 
from  which  she  had  flinched  for  so  long.  Chiffon  and  she 
were  old  friends  at  least ;  that  their  social  life  had  estranged 
rather  than  drawn  them  together  was  perhaps  but  a  momen- 
tary shadow  on  their  intimacy. 

The  blinds  were  down  in  the  upper  windows  of  the  Har- 
bingers' house,  and  the  door  was  opened  by  an  unliveried 
footman ;  but  such  a  lack  of  state  seemed  more  familiar  to 
Patricia  from  the  dismantled  rooms  of  their  own  house  than 
if  she  had  found  things  as  usual.  She  was  shown  into  the 
smoking-room — that  anomalous  apartment  which  the  Har- 
bingers most  affected,  and  which  might  equally  well  have 
been  styled  the  library.  Lady  Harbinger  was  out,  the  foot- 
man thought,  but  his  lordship  was  in,  if  Miss  Mornington 
would  wait? 


262  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

"  Pray  don't  disturb  Lord  Harbinger,"  said  Patricia,  with 
a  haste  she  hardly  realised  herself.  "  I  will  wait  until  Lady 
Harbinger  comes  in,  if  you  will  tell  her  that  I  am  here." 

"  Very  well,  Miss." 

The  man  deferentially  arranged  some  illustrated  papers  on 
one  of  the  small  tables,  with  a  view  to  calling  Patricia's 
attention  to  the  suitability  of  the  "  Queen  "  and  the  "  Ladies' 
Field."  It  was  evident  that  Chiffon  had  been  studying 
fashions  or  the  golf  tournaments  in  the  train  yesterday,  but 
Patricia  made  a  small  face  at  the  literature  offered  to  her, 
and  as  soon  as  the  servant  had  gone  she  leisurely  made  her 
way  to  the  bookcase,  pushed  the  broad  divan  aside,  and 
insinuating  her  tall  figure  between  the  curtains  and  the  hidden 
piece  of  furniture,  began  to  take  stock  of  the  Harbingers' 
most  cherished  books — the  books  that  they  professed  to  love, 
and  kept  almost  inaccessible  save  to  so  determined  an  assault 
as  Patricia's. 

It  was  evident,  at  least,  that  when  they  did  take  down  a 
book  they  did  so  with  easy  familiarity,  and  had  no  settled 
place  for  their  favourites.  There  were  no  rows  of  library- 
bound,  uniform  backs  here,  but  rather  such  editions  and  stray 
volumes  as  they  bought  going  easily  along  with  the  world, 
and  obviously  guided  by  individual  taste.  The  Racing 
Calendar  and  a  book  on  Motoring  were  side  by  side  with 
Dickens  (Lord  Harbinger  would  no  more  have  read  Dickens 
than  the  Duke,  who  protested  that  the  characters  in  his  books 
were  of  a  class  with  which  he  did  not  care  to  associate — he 
had  quite  enough  of  that  sort  of  thing  if  he  happened  to  get 
a  rude  cabman !),  and  further  down  the  shelves  Patricia  re- 
cognised a  battered  volume  of  Swinburne's  Poems  which 
Chiffon  had  secreted  at  the  Convent  and  had  appreciated  in 
secret.  The  sight  of  the  well-stained  blue  and  gold  brought 
a  queer  mist  before  her  eyes,  and  a  sudden  passionate  regret 
for  the  time  when  she  and  Chiffon  were  merely  schoolgirls, 
on  the  look-out  for  forbidden  knowledge  and  mischief  of  any 
kind,  no  doubt,  but  with  boundless  possibilities  before  them. 
The  possibilities  had  ended  in  Chiffon's  case  in  marriage  at 
nineteen,  beyond  which  the  result  of  too  much  physical  ex 
perience  with  too  little  to  balance  it  mentally,  seemed  to 
Nougat  inevitable.  While  for  herself  she  found  that  life  was 
spelling  disillusionment.  She  took  out  the  volume  as  one 
takes  something  grown  precious  with  the  past,  and  noticed 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  263 

a  grease  mark  on  the  cover  where  a  guilty  candle  had  dripped 
to  betray  their  midnight  study.  Then  she  began  idly  turning 
the  pages,  looking  half  unconsciously  for  the  "  Oblation," 
which  she  had  read  so  recently  from  the  pages  of  Marzial's 
song,  with  Vaughan  looking  over  her  shoulder. 

"Ask  nothing  more  of  me,  sweet, 
All  I  can  give  you  I  give. 
Heart  of  my  heart,  were  it  more, 
More  should  be  laid  at  your  feet — 
Love  that  should  help  you  to  live. 
Song  that  should  spur  you  to  soar — 
Ask  nothing  more  of  me,  sweet — 
Ask  nothing  more — nothing  more  ! " 

The  book  had  opened  easily  at  the  poem  that  she  wanted, 
and  she  now  saw  the  reason.  There  was  a  folded  paper  lying 
between  the  pages  here,  and  Patricia  on  turning  it  over  was 
struck  by  a  strange  word  and  read  it,  unconscious  that  she  was 
doing  so. 

"  Mummy  lulovuve — " 

"  The  Lully  Language ! "  exclaimed  Patricia  under  her 
breath.  She  was  too  contemptuous  of  the  trivial  nonsense 
even  to  smile,  but  she  wondered  for  an  instant,  blankly,  if  she 
would  be  expected  to  learn  its  intricacies,  supposing 

Breaking  the  thought  she  went  back  to  the  poems,  decipher- 
ing no  more  of  the  folded  paper  and  intentionally  forcing 
herself  to  understand  what  she  was  reading,  so  that  after  a 
minute  she  became  really  absorbed — so  absorbed  that  she 
did  not  hear  anyone  enter  the  room  beyond  the  curtains  where 
she  stood  hidden,  though  had  they  looked  at  the  divan  they 
could  have  seen  that  it  was  moved  from  its  usual  position. 

"  For  love  has  no  abiding, 
But  dies  before  the  kiss," 

read  Patricia,  feeling  how  little  she  had  understood  the 
tragedy  of  the  lines  in  those  far-away  Convent  days. 

*'  So  hath  it  been,  so  be  it ; 
For  who  shall  live  and  flee  it  ? 
But  look  that  no  man  see  it 

Or  hear  it  unaware  ; 
Lest  all  who  love  and  choose  him 
See  Love,  and  so  refuse  him — 
For  all  who  find  him  lose  him, 
But  all  have  found  him  fair." 


264  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

"  Oh,  you  shouldn't  have  come  1  Why  did  you  come  ?  1 
didn't  know  you  were  in  town " 

"  If  you  had  you  must  have  known  that  I  should  come. 
Chiffon,  darling,  don't  struggle  so — kiss  me,  and  be  sweet !  " 

The  words  mingled  so  with  the  last  lines  of  the  poem, 
which  she  comprehended  the  more  fully  of  the  two,  that 
until  they  were  spoken,  Patricia  did  not  know  that  she  had 
heard  them.  When  they  reached  her  consciousness,  she  was 
still  standing  with  the  book  in  her  hands,  nor  did  she  even 
close  it  or  stir.  She  stood  absolutely  still — so  still  that  each 
breath  she  drew  seemed  to  her  an  actual  noise,  and  the 
Universe  to  darken  round  her  and  grow  hideous  with  treachery 
and  suspicion  and  the  base  side  of  human  nature  which  is 
too  vulgar  to  name.  If  they  found  her  now,  she  would  come 
out  from  the  curtains  and  face  them,  she  knew  not  how; 
but  if  not  she  would  not  make  one  movement  to  confound 
them For  the  voices  were  Chiffon's  and  Lexiter's. 

"  I  wish  you  hadn't  come ! "  whispered  the  woman's  softer 
tones — but  how  cruelly  the  whisper  carried  to  the  ears  of  the 
maddened  eavesdropper !  "  Bobby  will  think  something  if 
you  are  not  careful." 

"  Pooh  !  Have  you  turned  coward,  Chiffon  ?  Bobby  never 
thought  anything  on  Carberry's  yacht.  Why  should  he 
now?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  have  turned  coward,  perhaps — ever  since 
that  day  that  we — drove  together " 

The  whisper  died  into  a  silence  of  enfolding  arms.  A 
sense  of  physical  nearness  made  Patricia's  face  suddenly 
flame,  as  it  had  not  flamed  even  when  this  same  man's  fingers 
touched  her  neck.  She  had  never  come  so  near  passion  be- 
fore, even  though  given  to  another.  It  seemed  as  if  the  shock 
and  the  shame  of  it  awoke  her  womanhood.  With  racing 
pulses  she  felt  the  woman's  form  creeping  closer  to  the  man's, 
the  little  sunny  head  that  she  knew  and  loved  so  well,  resting 
just  above  his  heart — scarcely  higher.  Why,  Chiffon  was 
such  a  little  girl,  and  Lexiter's  height  and  strength  seemed 
suddenly  forced  into  masculine  contrast  by  her  weakness ! 
Weak  in  more  senses  than  the  physical,  poor  Chiffon  ! — poor 
little  Chiffon,  held  too  closely  in  arms  not  her  husband's  ! 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  you  ?  "  said  Lexiter's  tender  voice 
through  the  meaning  silence.  "  You  are  so  small  and  sweet 
and  I  love  little  people !  " 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  265 

"  1  shouldn't  have  let  you,  Caryl,  only  that  you  were  a 
wounded  hero  ! "  (The  caressing  tone  had  tears  and  laughter 
in  it  at  the  same  time.  Were  Chiffon's  arms  round  his  neck  ?) 
"  Your  arm  is  an  unlair  advantage! — Does  it  hurt  you  now?  " 

"  I  am  not  at  all  sure — if  saying  No  means  that  you  will 
treat  me  less  kindly !  By  Jove !  it  was  a  near  shave  that  1 
had  an  arm  left  at  all.  A  little  more  mangling  and  it  must 
have  gone." 

"  Don't — I  feel  sick  when  I  think  of  it !  Are  you  sure 
Sir  Richard  said  that  it  was  all  right  ?  " 

"  He  said  it  would  be — if  1  were  not  contradicted  at  all, 
and  allowed  to  have  my  own  way  I  " 

"  You  always  do  eventually  !  "  said  Chiffon  with  a  sigh. 

"  Not  by  a  long  way — not  since  that  drive  together. 
Chiffon,  you  must  manage  to  come  to  me  once,  soon " 

"  Hush  !     Bobby  is  calling  us  !  " 

Even  the  sound  of  the  retreating  footsteps  did  not  seem  to 
restore  the  power  of  motion  to  Patricia.  She  moved  stiffly, 
and  with  a  deliberation  that  was  quite  independent  of  her 
own  agonised  desire  to  hurry,  and  before  leaving  the  room, 
she  pushed  the  divan  back  into  its  place  and  rearranged  the 
curtains.  Then  she  walked  out  of  the  room  and  through 
the  hall,  with  a  dull  feeling  of  surprise  that  she  should  be 
so  lucky  as  to  see  no  one  about.  Somewhere  in  a  room  near 
by  she  heard  Lexiter  laugh,  and  Lord  Harbinger's  voice,  but 
she  opened  the  front  door  quietly  and  made  her  escape  with- 
out their  having  seen  her. 

The  solid  ground  did  not  fail  her  in  Park  Lane,  though 
she  might  feel  that  the  bottom  of  her  universe  had  fallen  out 
morally;  she  walked  steadily,  enjoying  the  faint  air  across 
the  Park  with  one  side  of  her  nature,  it  seemed  to  her,  even 
while  the  other  side  was  still  stunned  and  bewildered  beyond 
the  right  appreciation  of  anything  but  a  sense  of  trouble. 
The  physical  enjoyment  of  the  October  wind  appeared  to  be 
separate  and  totally  detached  from  the  soreness  of  heart  that 
ached  for  Chiffon  even  above  and  beyond  its  consciousness 
of  outrage.  The  most  vivid  sensation  which  her  discovery 
had  aroused  in  her  was  not  anger — not  even  disappointment. 
The  revelation  of  a  more  lawless  emotion  than  she  had  ever 
known  had  forced  the  realisation  of  its  possibility  in  herself 
on  Patricia,  and  she  trembled.  For  Chiffon's  voice  had  had 
a  note  in  it  she  did  not  know,  and  the  answering  depths  of 


266  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

Lexiter's  made  her  hot  to  remember — as  if  she  had  intruded 
on  something  so  secret  that  she  felt  the  shame  in  herself 
which  did  not  belong  to  them.  Chiffon  was  in  love — with 
a  loneliness  of  heart  that  was  for  herself  and  not  for  her 
friend,  Patricia  recognised  that  here  was  an  experience  she 
could  not  gauge.  She  almost  thought,  with  a  pang  of  regret 
that  hides  in  the  depths  of  every  feminine  heart,  that  sne 
never  could  gauge  it,  for  what  man's  arms  would  dare  to  hold 
her  closely  as  Lexiter's  had  done  ?  It  occurred  to  her,  with- 
out any  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  that  her  height  was  against 
such  an  experience ;  no  man  could  feel  the  longing  to  protect 
and  fondle  a  tall  woman  who  bore  the  capability  of  taking 
care  of  her  own  self  in  every  one  of  her  inches. 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  you  ?  "  said  Lexiter's  voice  in  her 
memory.     "  You  are  so  small — and  I  love  little  people  !  " 

In  the  foolish  love-words  it  seemed  to  her  that  he  urged 
sufficient  excuse  for  his  own  lapse  from  righteousness. 

The  whispering  voice  said  something  more  yet;  with  a 
sudden  reaction  she  felt  it  proclaimed  her  freedom,  and  she 
gasped  from  the  discovery  that  she  did  not  care  for  the  owner 
of  the  voice,  though  the  shrine  being  empty  she  had  nearly 
set  up  a  false  god  for  lack  of  a  true.  She  had  not  loved  Caryl 
Lexiter,  but  he  possessed,  and  always  would  possess,  the  halo 
of  the  "half-god"  to  her;  and  for  this  reason,  perhaps,  she 
judged  him  more  leniently  than  she  would  have  done  other 
men,  for  Patricia  was  one  of  the  rare  women  who  are  not  more 
exacting  but  more  generous  to  those  who  have  acquired  a 
claim  to  their  tenderness.  Women  had  a  way  of  being  in- 
dulgent, even  in  judgment,  to  Caryl  Lexiter,  it  is  true — but 
they  were  apt  to  put  on  the  Black  Cap  as  soon  as  they  were 
not  themselves  the  temptation  which  he  pleaded.  The  un- 
feminine  in  Patricia,  which  men  had  recognised  in  nicknaming 
her  "  Sceptre,"  made  her  charitable,  even  though  she  gently 
closed  the  shrine  to  Lexiter's  image  from  henceforth. 

■"  Heartily  know 
When  half -gods  go 
The  Gods  arrive  !  " 

And  who  was  to  be  her  god?  With  a  natural  resentment 
she  was  almost  inclined  to  cry  "Let  the  shrine  stand  empty 
for  ever !  "  and  to  deny  a  second  memory  of  another  voice, 


AS    YE   HAVE  SOWN.  267 

very  different  to  Lexiter's,  yet  which  in  its  kinder  tones  had 
lain  in  the  background  of  her  mind  as  a  pleasant  thing  at 
least,  and  one  worth  treasuring.  It  was  not  so  musical  a 
voice  as  Lexiter's,  and  it  had  a  little  croak  in  it.  What  it 
was  always  saying  to  Patricia  was,  "  I  hope  you  will  enjoy 
your  house-party — I  wish  I  were  going  to  be  there."  It  was 
a  coincidence  that  the  one  man  should  once  more  have  re- 
called the  other  to  her,  while  she  pronounced  them  totally 
dissimilar,  yet  it  was  a  fact  that  Lexiter  had  several  times 
brought  Vaughan  to  her  mind,  though  Vaughan  had  rarely 
if  ever  recalled  Lexiter.  She  began  to  see,  slowly,  that  pos- 
sibly they  both  belonged  to  an  original  type,  altered  in  both 
their  cases  by  excess  of  circumstances,  and  to  be  grateful  for 
Vaughan  that  the  very  drawbacks  which  had  seemed  to  con- 
strain and  narrow  his  life  had  only  guarded  it  from  the  indul- 
gencies  of  Lexiter's.  Women  of  Patricia's  mould  are  not 
attracted  by  violent  opposites.  The  same  innate  qualities 
that  she  looked  for  in  Vaughan  had  been  in  Lexiter.  Only, 
in  the  one  man  they  had  been  developed,  though  crabbedly, 
under  a  self-restraint  that  was  power,  in  the  other  they  had 
been  gradually  overlaid  by  the  self-indulgence  licensed  by  his 
class.  She  was  inclined  to  cry  out  with  Fate  Leroy  again, 
that  the  panacea  for  all  ills  is  Work. 

"  Heartily  know 
When  half-gods  go 
The  Gods  arrive  ! " 

The  half-god  Lexiter  had  gone  from  the  instant  that  his 
voice  spoke  love  to  another  woman  in  Patricia's  ears.  She 
was  not  of  the  clay  that  makes  jealousy,  but  she  was  regally 
incapable  of  sharing  her  dominion.  It  must  be  all  or  nothing, 
and  it  was  her  intuition  about  Fate  that  had  at  first  thrust 
Vaughan  beyond  the  pale  to  her,  and  that  still  made  the 
thought  of  him  a  pang  of  hurt  pride.  Had  she  loved  Fate 
less  she  might  have  felt  her  influence  in  Vaughan's  life  as  an 
injury,  seeing  that  she  was  so  rich  already  in  her  married 
happiness.  Curiously  enough  she  did  not  resent  Chiffon's 
piracy  in  the  same  way,  but  she  wanted  to  laugh  and  cry 
together  at  the  situation.  Poor  little  Chiffon !  it  seemed  a 
jar  in  the  order  of  things  that  anything  so  light  and  slight 
should  suffer.     Yet  the  very  discovery  of  her  folly  lent  her  a 


268  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

certain  dignity  and  development.  Love — even  lawless  love 
— that  involves  a  risk  of  smug  self-advantage  is  a  better  re- 
fining fire  than  mere  prudent  virtue.  Patricia  remembered 
with  a  revelation  her  own  comment  to  Chiffon  on  Editha 
Blais  Heron — "How  can  she  meet  a  man  secretly,  when  she 
cannot  do  so  openly  ?  I  should  feel  like  a  housemaid  !  "  and 
Chiffon's  answer — "  I  would  rather  feel  like  a  housemaid 
than  not  meet  the  man  I  loved ! "  It  was  not  little  that 
Chiffon  was  risking  for  Lexiter's  sake — her  social  position, 
her  husband's  anger,  the  misery  of  a  woman  who  is  "  found 
out  " — they  meant  infinitely  more  to  Chiffon's  praise-loving, 
affectionate  nature  than  they  would  have  done  to  her  friend. 
After  once  passing  the  rubicon  of  her  own  pride,  Patricia 
would  have  found  the  world  well  lost  for  love ;  Chiffon  must 
have  shuddered  many  a  time  at  the  possible  shattering  of  her 
whole  world,  which  lay  in  social  traditions.  Yet  Chiffon  had 
loved  well  enough  to  hazard  what  she  prized  most,  for  the 
sake  of  the  forbidden  fruit.  That  it  might  not  be  a  great 
sacrifice  intrinsically — this  petty  approval  and  acceptance  of 
a  narrow  circle  in  which  she  sunned  herself — was  nothing ; 
we  can  only  give  our  best  for  love,  and  the  gods  judge  by  the 
value  we  set,  ourselves,  on  a  soap-bubble,  rather  than  the 
market-price  of  the  Koh-i-noor. 

"  Truly  Chiffon  is  more  generous  than  I !  "  said  Patricia, 
almost  bitterly.  "  I  could  not  have  given  an  equivalent  for 
what  she  has  staked  ! " 

She  sat  down  in  her  own  rooms  to  write  to  Lady  Harbinger 
a  note  that  was  merely  a  decent  lie.  Chiffon  would  hear 
from   the    footman  that    she  had  called,    and   might  guess 

That  must  not  be.     Patricia  had  already  decided 

that  unless  an  ugly  confidence  were  made  to  her,  her  shrink- 
ing senses  might  pretend  comfortable  ignorance. 

"  Dear  Chiffon,"  she  wrote.  "  I  called  on  you  this  morn- 
ing to  hear  your  plans,  but  your  servants  warned  me  that  you 
were  out,  and  though  I  intended  to  wait  for  you,  I  soon  wore 
out  my  patience  and  came  home.  The  footman  will  think 
that  I  am  the  vanishing  lady,  for  I  let  myself  out,  and  forgot 
to  leave  a  message.  Will  you  come  round  and  have  tea 
with  me,  or  make  a  solemn  appointment  to  see  me  which 
even  a  call  from  a  dressmaker  shall  not  break  ?  I  suppose 
you  have  enquired  for  the  Duke  and  know  that  he  is  much 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  269 

better?  I  saw  him  yesterday,  and  feel  much  refreshed  in 
consequence.  He  looks  ill  still,  but  his  caustic  wit  is  by  no 
means  impaired ! 

"  Yours, 

"Nougat." 


It  was  nearly  two  o'clock  as  she  folded  and  directed  the 
note,  for  she  glanced  at  a  little  silver  clock  on  the  table  near 
her  as  she  did  so,  thinking  that  she  would  wait  until  the  after- 
noon before  sending  one  of  the  servants  with  it  to  Park  Lane 
— Patricia  was  invariably  considerate  for  the  household. 
She  had  told  them  that  she  was  lunching  out,  in  all  prob- 
ability, having  thought  to  stay  with  Chiffon,  and  had  left 
orders  that  they  were  to  bring  no  luncheon  until  she  rang. 
Now  she  wondered,  with  the  old  wistful  desire  for  inter- 
course, if  that  other  lonely  personality  in  the  vast  empty 
house  had  lunched  in  his  own  rooms,  or  had  gone  to  his  Club, 
and  wished  that  for  once  they  might  have  broken  bread  to- 
gether like  friends.  She  had  not  yet  encountered  Giles  Morn- 
ington,  though  they  had  been  under  the  same  roof  since  seven 
o'clock  the  evening  before.  It  seemed  to  her  that  there  was 
no  actual  reason  why  they  should  meet  at  all,  unless  she  made 
another  desperate  bid  for  fortune  and  forced  herself  upon 
him.  She  rose  from  the  writing-table  with  the  purpose  half 
formed  in  her  mind,  and,  crossing  the  room,  laid  her  hand 
on  the  bell. 

"  I  will  tell  them  to  take  my  letter,  and  ask  Mr.  Mornington 
to  speak  to  me  if  he  is  in  the  house,"  she  said,  with  a  quick 
breath  at  her  own  resolution.  "At  least  he  cannot  refuse 
to " 

She  was  stooping  to  lay  her  hand  on  the  bell,  when  she 
suddenly  shot  up  to  her  full  height,  and  stood  quivering. 
Something  that  had  no  place  in  the  quiet  humdrum  of  every- 
day life  had  happened — a  mere  sensation  of  fear  at  present 
that  conveyed  nothing  more  definite  to  her  brain.  She  only 
knew  that  she  had  heard  a  sound  that  her  instinct  resented 
as  a  violent  shock  in  a  world  of  safety. 

Her  own  door  was  standing  open — the  glass  doors  that 
shut  off  her  corridor  from  the  rest  of  the  house  must  have 
been  open  too ;  for  up  the  empty,  echoing  spaces  had  come 
a  short,  muffled  report,  the  sharp,  undeniable  crack  of  fire- 


2/0  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

arms,  that  no  distance  or  closed  double  doors  could  quite 
disguise. 

Patricia  never  rang  the  bell,  or  gave  her  letter  to  be  sent 
by  hand  to  the  Harbingers'  house.  The  next  she  remembered 
was  the  rush  of  the  air  in  her  face  as  her  feet  flew  down  end- 
less uncarpeted  stairs,  the  impatience  of  feeling  that  the 
house  was  too  large,  and  its  space  would  not  yield  fast  enough 
to  her  hurrv. 


2/1 


CHAPTER  XVIIl. 

"And  so  maybe,  there  will  come  a  day — 
Living  at  strain — 
When  the  power  goes,  and  you  lose  your  way — 

But  the  verdict  will  be  '  Insane.' 
You  ask  forgiveness  of  some  few  friends — 

Brief  words  and  blotted, — and  so  it  ends '     . 

When  the  devil  breaks  is  it  God  Who  mends  ? 
Living  at  strain  ! " 

Wi/d  Oats. 

The  secret  of  Giles  Mornington's  success  as  a  financier  was 
said  to  be  his  quickness  of  decision — he  made  up  his  mind, 
and  dealt  rapidly,  though  in  millions,  where  lesser  men  were 
still  hesitating  over  thousands — and  so  hesitating  were  lost. 
In  this,  as  in  most  other  details  of  his  character,  the  outside 
world  was  entirely  mistaken,  but  he  had  acquired  a  reputa- 
tion which  no  betrayal  on  his  part  had  contradicted.  As  a 
fact,  he  had  never  made  a  hasty  decision  in  his  life ;  he  came 
to  conclusions  very  slowly,  and  weighed  all  sides  of  a  question 
where  others  judged  with  one-idead  haste.  The  real  secret 
of  his  success  was.  that  he  began  to  think  out  his  plans  long 
before  other  men  would  have  conceived  them,  and  was  men- 
tally long-sighted  to  a  degree  that  brought  the  far  future  into 
immediate  range  of  vision. 

As  an  instance  of  this,  there  was  one  conclusion  of  his  to 
which  it  had  taken  him  three  and  twenty  years  to  arrive ;  but 
each  painful  step  had  never  been  retraced,  nor  did  he  once 
hesitate  over  his  decision  when  he  had  made  it.  He  had, 
indeed,  only  reached  its  culmination  on  the  day  on  which 
Lord  Lowndes  left  him  at  Rye  to  return  to  town,  and  the 
alteration  of  his  own  plans,  which  subsequently  caused  him 
to  follow  his  guest,  was  merely  a  slight  divergence  from  an 
original  intention,  and  did  not  alter  the  intention  itself  at  all. 


272  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

It  was  a  small  thing  that  changed  his  purpose  even  thus 
far,  but  sufl5ciently  potent.  When  his  guest  disappeared 
round  the  curve  of  the  drive,  he  turned  also  to  go  back  into 
the  house ;  but,  as  he  turned,  his  eye  was  caught  by  the  open 
gate  of  the  little  copse  stretching  behind  the  house,  which 
was  supposed  to  be  kept  closed  from  the  inroads  of  the  dogs 
who  went  a-hunting  there.  Mornington  mechanically  stepped 
aside  to  latch  it,  with  a  mental  note  that  he  would  report 
the  circumstance  to  the  men  who  were  doubtless  at  fault, 
and  then,  without  any  more  definite  intention,  he  passed 
through  the  gate  into  the  copse  and  closed  it  behind  him 
instead  of  before.  There  was  a  narrow  pathway  through 
the  trees,  and  he  followed  it  aimlessly,  without  any  con- 
scious goal,  until  he  emerged  on  to  the  cliff  itself,  beneath 
which  a  tangled  vegetation  leapt  down  from  shelf  to  shelf 
as  if  to  mock  the  tradition  that  the  sea  once  tossed  white 
spray  up  here  ....  and  then,  suddenly,  below  him  lay  the 
Marshes. 

He  had  always  loved  the  Marshes.  The  sad  green  levels 
had  drawn  him  many  a  time,  when  life  felt  intolerable  be- 
neath his  impassive  exterior,  and  he  would  stand,  as  now, 
gazing  with  fascinated  eyes  over  the  endless  stretch  of  green 
grazing  land  and  narrow  water-ways,  out  to  a  vague  horizon 
where  the  sea  might  be  imagined.  He  did  not  draw  a  defi- 
nite likeness  between  its  hopeless  monotony  and  his  own  life ; 
he  only  knew  that  its  utter  resignation  suited  the  most  final 
of  his  moods.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  land,  knowing  that 
life  and  movement  and  the  salt  keen  flavour  of  waves  would 
visit  it  no  more,  had  settled  down  into  mere  dull  passivity 
and  become  fodder  for  cattle.  He  also  had  found  his  uses, 
and  he  did  not  recognise  that  any  further  experience  could 
drive  him  into  action,  or  that  despair  is  not  paralysis  .... 
Now,  within  a  short  time  since,  he  had  found  that  even  his 
nerves  were  not  sufficiently  dead  for  him  to  feel  no  pain,  and 
with  his  acquired  deliberation  he  was  setting  himself  to  soothe 
them  in  the  only  way  he  knew.  He  had  meant  to  do  it  this 
afternoon,  but  the  chance  stroll  through  the  copse  and  out 
on  to  the  cliff  side,  had  brought  him  face  to  face  with  the 
Marshes,  and  a  revulsion  of  feeling  made  him  think  that  it 
would  jar  on  his  conception  of  the  place.  He  would  not  do 
it  at  Rye — he  had  always  loved  Rye.  It  was  the  only  senti- 
ment in  which  he  had  indulged  for  more  than  twenty  years ; 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  273 

and  besides,  he  had  waited  so  long  that  he  could  afford  tc 
put  it  off  until  to-morrow. 

He  went  back  to  the  house,  and  ordered  the  servants  to 
pack  up  for  him,  as  he  was  returning  to  town.  An  inherited 
instinct,  perhaps,  had  made  him  object  to  having  a  special 
attendant  about  him,  and  one  of  the  men  generally  acted  as 
valet  without  the  danger  of  his  growing  dependent  on  an  in- 
variable servant  who  waited  upon  him.  There  was  no  train 
at  the  time  he  wanted  it,  but  he  sent  a  message  ordering  a 
special,  and  caught  an  express  at  Ashford.  The  only 
emotion  in  his  mind  all  through  the  miles  he  traversed  back 
to  town  was  a  regret  at  seeing  the  Marshes  no  more — of 
having  said  good-bye  to  the  one  place  which  had  been  a  haven 
of  refuge  from  the  life  to  which  he  was  going  back,  as  spectres 
may  go,  looking  on  the  place  of  it  once  more  with  alien  eyes, 
and  a  cold  surprise  that  it  could  once  have  had  a  power  of 
ill  over  him.  As  he  walked  a  trifle  heavily  up  the  familiar 
steps,  he  almost  groped  in  his  own  mind  for  the  old  loathing 
and  dread ;  but  the  hall  was  a  dead  horror — no  longer  the 
background  to  a  daily  tragedy  that  had  grinned  at  him  foi 
four  and  twenty  years.  For  the  first  time  it  was  merely  a 
house  to  him,  and  not  an  emblem  of  ironical  wealth  wasted 
on  a  place  miscalled  Home.  He  regarded  it  now  as  a 
shelter  at  least,  a  useful  possession,  where  a  man  might  lay 
down  his  load  at  last.  If  it  held  any  other  memory,  it  was 
that  of  a  white  figure  at  the  foot  of  the  broad  staircase,  a 
very  beautiful  woman's  face  with  brown  eyes  that  wanted  to 
help 

Looking  back  o^er  his  life,  it  seemed  to  him  a  series 
of  such  disastrous  failures  as  might  justify  any  man  in 
throwing  it  up  altogether.  As  a  boy  he  had  wished,  like 
Eldred  Leroy,  to  be  a  sailor;  but  a  reserved  nature  and  the 
practical  necessity  of  the  Middle  Class  had  decided  that  he 
should  follow  up  the  pioneer  steps  of  the  father  who  had 
laid  the  foundations  of  a  fortune  by  invention.  The  son's 
genius  was  the  management  of  money  rather  than  its  acquire- 
ment by  original  methods.  He  was  a  financier,  bred  if  not 
born,  and  he  had  handled  and  turned  the  money  already  in  his 
grasp  so  that  he  was  a  very  rich  man  when  still  fairly  young. 
At  five  and  thirty  he  was  called  a  millionaire,  and  took  a  place 
of  honour  upon  Boards  of  Directors,  where  his  practical  know- 
ledge counterbalanced  the  amiable  qualities  of  such  men  as 

18 


274  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

Lord  Ragby.  It  was  owing  to  such  a  Board,  and  meeting 
his  coadjutors,  that  Mornington  had  been  introduced  into  the 
historical  house  of  Blais,  and  learned  his  first  lesson  of  its 
conservatism.  As  he  sat  quite  alone  in  his  own  room  at  the 
back  of  the  house  in  Piccadilly,  shut  off  from  the  rest  of  it 
by  double  doors,  he  suddenly  broke  into  a  grating  laugh  of 
extreme  amusement,  but  the  sound  did  not  frighten  him  as 
it  would  have  done  anyone  who  had  overheard.  He  had 
reached  that  place  in  his  memory  where  he  first  met  Lady 
Vera,  and  was  reviewing  his  impressions  of  her  with  a  sense 
of  the  ludicrous  that  was  devilish.  She  had  been  a  very 
beautiful  girl,  with  a  tawny  beauty  that  had  always  somehow 
reminded  him  of  a  chestnut  horse.  Something  of  the  racer's 
breed  was  perhaps  discernible  in  her  long  slim  limbs  (at  that 
age  she  gave  the  impression  of  being  corseted  as  little  as 
Patricia  did  now),  but  he  was  too  dazzled  to  pass  a  deliberate 
criticism.  She  had  married  him  in  a  gown  whose  price  he 
subsequently  learned  when  he  paid  the  bill,  with  a  Blais  to 
hold  up  her  train,  and  a  Blais  Heron  amongst  the  brides- 
maids, and  Blais's  to  fill  the  front  pews  and  whisper  amongst 
themselves  of  family  secrets  and  jokes  that  shut  the  rest  of 
the  world  outside — until  even  the  wedding  partook  of  the 
effect  of  a  family  party.  The  sense  of  his  own  withering 
unimportance  beside  that  of  the  meanest  Blais  had  entered 
into  the  bridegroom's  soul  long  before  the  bride  believed 
him  capable  of  a  faint  glimmer  of  intuition.  Lady  Vera  was 
a  well-bred  woman  in  all  essentials  of  an  everyday  world; 
she  never  insinuated  that  her  husband's  birth  made  him  in 
a  different  clay  to  herself,  far  less  did  she  say  so  by  spoken 
word,  even  in  a  passion.  But  she  lived  it.  There  came  a 
day  when  things  drifted  quite  inevitably  to  a  comfortable 
estrangement  that  suited  her  very  well  indeed,  and  she  went 
her  way  as  a  pretty  woman  who  was  emancipated  by  marriage 
rather  than  trammelled  by  it,  and  with  leave  to  be  extrava- 
gant. There  came  a  night,  too,  when  all  experience  that  was 
personally  distasteful  to  her  ceased,  leaving  her  only  with  a 
whetted  appetite  that  she  looked  to  satisfy  elsewhere;  and 
she  lived  her  own  life,  unwifed,  but  trusted  by  the  fool  whose 
womenkind  were  bound  by  the  traditions  of  a  creed  she  had 
forgotten. 

From  that  night — and  it  was  a  nameless  horror,   a  hurt 
pride  of  manhood  that  he  never  faced  again  in  memory — 


AS   YE'  HAVE  SOWN.  275 

Mornington  lost  the  sense  of  his  wife  as  anything  but  a  name 
and  a  tiresome  responsibility,  beneath  the  burden  of  whose 
possible  indiscretions  he  writhed.  He  had  lived  his  life  since 
without  any  personality  in  it,  gradually  withdrawing  from 
vivid  intercourse  with  any  human  soul,  until  he  was  left 
stranded  on  the  boundaries  of  existence  and  all  men  looked 
to  him  like  shadows.  It  is  a  dreadful  thing  to  have  no  vital 
interest  in  another  human  creature  which  is  strong  enough  to 
make  them  seem  alive  to  our  senses  as  well  as  our  intelligence. 
Personality  is  the  real  cause  of  all  the  mental  pain  and 
pleasure  in  the  world ;  it  can  hurt  as  no  mere  selfish  dis- 
appointment can  do,  but  it  is  the  life-blood  beating  in  an  other- 
wise colourless  world.  Mornington  was  afraid  of  allowuig 
anyone  to  become  real  to  him  in  the  new  universe  which  cir- 
cumstances had  developed  round  him — the  least  spark  of  an 
interest  which  he  detected  in  himself  he  rigidly  put  out,  for 
he  had  learned  the  torture  pang  which  can  be  inflicted 
through  this  close  attraction  to  another  soul  which  means  a 

knowledge  of  their  personality,  and  he  was  afraid 

afraid  ! To  be  absolutely  disillusioned  is  really  a 

first-class  Hell. 

Twelve  months  after  his  estrangement  from  his  wife,  there 
was  a  child  born,  under  his  roof,  and  bearing  his  name.  He 
remembered  that  it  was  the  family  physician  who  first  com- 
municated the  touching  possibility  to  him,  and  the  memory 
made  him  wince.  But  he  did  not  care  to  remember,  either, 
the  woman's  face  when  they  met  after  he  knew.  Even  a  race- 
horse may  show  craven  fear — perhaps  the  more  craven  for 
its  high  tension  and  natural  excitement.     Let  us  be  pitiful  1 

The  child  had  first  made  its  existence  really  known  to  him 
three  or  four  years  after  its  birth  by  a  cry  that  had  caused 
his  heart  to  stand  still,  for  the  shock  penetrated  through  all 
its  acquired  numbness.  He  had  always  had  a  secret 
sympathy  for  dumb  things,  and  a  pity  that  was  championship 
for  anything  smaller  and  more  helpless  than  himself,  if  in 
fear  or  pain.  And  this  was  fear — deadly  fear,  and  prospec- 
tive pain.  He  did  not  laugh  at  this  point  in  his  reminiscence, 
but  he  smiled  grimly  as  he  recalled  his  warning  to  the  woman 
who  bore  his  name.  She  would  not  be  warned,  because  she 
could  not,  self-control  having  passed  beyond  hope  of  posses- 
sion of  Vera  Mornington  since  it  had  never  been  learned  by 
Vera  Blais.     Then  had  come  the  day  when  he  had  taken  the 

i8* 


276  AS  YE  HAVE   SOWN. 

piteous  small  thing  abroad,  out  of  reach  of  such  fear  as 
caused  those  cries,  and  placed  it  in  pure,  generous  guardian- 
ship. Mornington  did  not  think  that  he  believed  in  a 
woman's  goodness,  but  his  one  interview  with  Lady  Helen  had 
made  him  more  inclined  to  do  t>o.  She  was  of  a  type  which 
hangs  in  most  of  the  picture  galleries  in  big  historical  houses 
in  England — a  woman  whose  pride  is  so  subtle  that  it  is  an 
essence  in  her  rather  than  an  obvious  and  distinctive  thing. 
Lady  Helen's  pride  was  her  inheritance,  as  much  as  her  small 
flat  ears,  and  rather  long  features.  But  she  was  proud  in  the 
right  way,  and  of  the  right  things,  rather  than  of  those  which 
had  roused  Giles  Mornington's  bitter  sneers  in  his  wife's  circle 
of  acquaintance.  He  always  thought  of  Lady  Helen  as  a 
stately  figure  in  a  full  black  gown,  and  with  a  lace  scarf  thrown 
over  her  grey  hair,  because  she  had  appeared  so  on  the  day 
«rhen  he  brought  Patricia  to  her  Quinta  at  Funchal.  He 
never  saw  her  again ;  their  one  interview  settled  all  the 
business  that  was  necessary,  and  left  each  of  them  with  a 
secret  respect  for  the  other.  Giles  Mornington  left  the  little 
white-frocked  child  he  had  brought  amongst  the  begonia  and 
the  bougainvillia  of  Funchal,  the  bright  blossoms  rousing  the 
grave  little  face  to  smiles  already,  and  went  back  to  the  colour 
less  life  out  of  which  he  was  so  laboriously  draining  the 
savour  of  existence. 

Mow,  after  twenty  torpid  years,  it  threatened  him  again, 
this  keen  relish  of  personal  interest,  and  he  was  afraid — 
horribly  afraid  of  the  pain  that  he  dared  not  even  remember. 
The  danger  had  come  in  the  presence  of  a  woman  grown  from 
the  child  he  had  saved  from  the  inherited  instincts  of  the 
Blais's,  and  menaced  him  by  a  daily  contact  he  could  not 
quite  avoid.  At  first  when  Patricia  came  home,  he  had 
looked  at  the  triumphant,  unconscious  beauty  of  this  new  face 
with  a  cold  curiosity,  to  see  what  his  experiment  had  done  to 
develop  the  child  he  had  placed  in  safe  keeping.  Gradually 
he  saw  and  acknowledged  that  Lady  Helen  had  made  a  very 
different  woman  out  of  the  unpromising  material  he  considered 
his  supposed  daughter,  to  what  might  have  resulted  had  she 
remained  at  home.  He  felt  the  quick  shock  of  sympathy 
between  them  when  the  eager  brown  eyes  sought  his  own 
and  recognised  that  the  intolerable  life  which  he  had  forced 
himself  to  endure  was  intolerable  also  to  Patricia.  Across  a 
room  full  of  chattering,  vacant  men  and  women,  whom  he 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  277 

despised,  he  would  sometimes  find  her  looking  at  him,  and 
know  that  the  same  thought  was  in  both  their  minds — the 
futility  of  a  social  system  which  gathered  people  together  and 
entertained  them  without  the  least  personal  desire  or  attrac- 
tion. At  last  he  found  himself  furtively  looking  for  her  to 
understand  him  and  to  agree  without  their  having  exchanged 
a  word.  It  was  then  that  he  began  to  be  afraid.  Had  he 
gone  further  he  knew  that  she  would  become  a  personal 
necessity  to  him — a  real  thing,  with  all  the  vivid  pains  and 
pleasures  that  he  had  sternly  thrust  out  of  his  life. 

Women  were  not  an  unknown  quantity  to  Mornington,  even 
after  his  experience  of  marriage.  He  had  had  mistresses, 
and  had  satisfied  the  masculine  animal  in  himself  as  a  matter 
of  course.  But  it  was  a  mechanical  thing  that  passed  and 
left  no  trace  upon  his  finer  self  or  inner  life.  Unlike  most 
of  his  fellows,  he  did  not  confide  in  the  women  who  had  no 
claim  upon  his  confidence.  They  were  as  much  a  physical 
comfort  as  his  bath,  or  his  wine  at  dinner — nothing  more. 
He  considered  them  a  necessity,  and  indulged  under  this 
satisfying  tradition.  But  now  he  wanted  something  more  than 
physical  gratification  from  the  opposite  sex;  he  wanted 
sympathy,  and  had  begun  to  long  for  it  in  a  shy,  savage 
fashion  that  threatened  to  overwhelm  all  his  acquired  in- 
difference. It  had  come  upon  him  afresh  in  all  its  force  when 
Lord  Lowndes  had  suddenly  suggested  Patricia's  presence  at 
Rye — a  very  natural  suggestion,  but  one  which  Mornington 
had  ignored  when  the  girl  herself  pleaded  for  it.  Suddenly 
it  had  become  an  overpowering  temptation — the  thought  of 
Patricia,  apart  from  the  nightmare  of  life  in  Piccadilly  with 
which  he  forced  himself  to  associate  her — just  Patricia  and 
himself,  as  friends,  perhaps  intimates,  with  the  sympathy  be- 
tween them  for  which  he  had  starved  all  his  life  !  If  she  had 
been  his  daughter  it  might  have  been  so.  The  bitterest  hurt 
that  Vera  Blais  had  done  him  was  not  only  the  loss  of  faith 
in  all  humanity  through  herself,  but  in  depriving  him  of  any 
right  to  Patricia.  Even  as  things  were — the  result  of  a  miser- 
able system  which  made  adultery  a  forgiven  sin  for  the  sake 
of  false  decency — he  still  found  that  he  coveted  Patricia.  He 
wanted  the  daughter  who  was  not  his  flesh  and  blood,  and  yet 
by  some  strange  bond  of  spirit  seemed  his  all  the  same.  For 
one  breathless  moment  he  had  thought  of  unlocking  the 
closed  doors  between  them,  throwing  open  his  house  to  her 


278  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

welcoming  foot,  and,  perhaps,  also  opening  the  long-locked 
doors  of  his  heart  a  little  way  one  day.  Then,  with  the 
memory  of  the  past,  had  come  the  reaction.  The  soul  into 
which  the  iron  has  entered,  does  not  become  purged  on  this 
side  of  death.     That  miracle  is  only  possible  in  Heaven,  .  . 

The  room  in  which  Mornington  was  sitting  was  the  one  in 
which  he  usually  took  his  meals  when  he  had  them  apart  from 
the  rest  of  the  household.  It  was  panelled,  like  the  large 
dining-room,  and  the  small  paned  windows  above  the  wood 
were  faintly  stained,  the  glass,  however,  hardly  darkening  the 
apartment.  Over  the  mantelpiece  were  a  curious  collection 
of  old  weapons — more  especially  Japanese.  His  eyes 
wandered  desperately  about  the  place  as  if  to  distract  himself, 
and  lit  on  a  graceful  sword,  the  handle  beautifully  inlaid. 
As  if  the  thing  drew  him  with  a  kind  of  fascination,  he  got 
slowly  out  of  his  chair  and  crossed  the  room,  walking  stiffly 
like  a  man  who  has  tramped  many  weary  miles  and  nears  the 
end  of  his  journey.  Lying  on  the  mantelshelf,  below  the 
weapons,  was  the  charged  revolver  he  had  placed  there  half 
an  hour  ago,  after  his  arrival.  He  took  it  up  mechanically 
and  handled  it  deftly,  seeing  that  it  was  in  working  order. 
There  was  neither  fear  nor  recklessness  in  his  face,  but  he 
looked  very  weary,  and  all  the  secretiveness  had  left  his  eyes 
giving  them  a  curious,  childish  expression. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said  half  aloud,  "  what  comes  next  ?  It 
cannot  be  worse  than  this  has  been.  I  wonder  who  will  find 
me?" 

He  remembered  the  only  other  person  in  the  house,  save 
the  servants,  and  her  face  was  before  his  eyes  in  a  vivid  flash. 
But  he  saw  two  likenesses  in  it  now,  and  with  a  movement 
like  a  terrified  child's  who  flies  to  shelter,  he  caught  the 
revolver  and  set  it  between  his  teeth.  Any  way  to  avoid  that 
eternal  memory — the  shame  of  it — the  pang 

The  shock  of  the  report  was  caught  up  and  passed  through 
the  doors  he  had  left  carelessly  open,  as  if  all  need  to  close 
them  were  past.  The  lingering  echo  wandered  out  and 
seemed  to  fill  the  quiet  day.  There  was  a  sound  of  running 
feet,  and  a  sharp  question. — 

The  great  house  had  heard  at  last  the  sound  for  which  it 
had  been  listening  and  waiting  for  twenty-four  ominous  years. 


279 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"  My  mother  was  a  Lady 

Who  was  married  to  a  Lord, 

But  she  lost  her  place  in  Heaven 

For  the  glamour  of  a  sword. 

"  My  father  was  a  soldier — 

My  mother  called  him  friend  ! 
An  Officer — a  Gentleman, 
Where  may  such  friendships  end  ?  " 

The  Ballad  of  the  Bar  Sinister. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  butler,  with  the  patient  courtesy  of  a  good 
servant,  "  her  ladyship  is  coming,  but  she  has  not  arrived 
yet." 

"  I  thought  perhaps  I  could  wire,  or  do  something,"  said 
Lexiter,  his  long  loose  figure  and  concerned  face  looming 
over  even  Curtice's  stately  proportions.  That  functionarj 
noticed  the  arm  that  still  hung  in  a  sling,  and  tucked  the  fact 
away  in  his  memory  to  find  the  cause  by  and  by.  It  chanced 
that  he  went  out  on  business  and  rode  on  an  omnibus  later  in 
the  day,  and  the  driver  had  married  the  sister  of  one  of  the 
housemaids  in  Lord  Queensleigh's  house  in  Portland  Place, 
and  knew  all  about  it  and  rather  more.  This  is  how  authentic 
news  of  the  upper  classes  is  ^really  transmitted  in  London; 
the  "  social  columns,"  even  in  the  best  papers,  may  be  doubted, 
but  the  verbal  report  of  the  Servants'  Hall,  never. 

"  Miss  Mornington  sent  a  telegram  at  once,  sir,"  remarked 
the  butler  in  a  tone  of  polite  information.  He  was  quite 
decently  grave  and  depressed,  but  he  knew  how  to  make  social 
conversation. 

"  How  soon  is  Lady  Vera  expected  ?  " 

"  To-morrow,  I  believe,  sir — or  next  day." 

"  In  the  meantime " 

"  Lady  D'Aulnoy  is  here,  sir  !  " 

"Oh,  is  she?"  said  Cary),  with  the  relief  in  his  tone  which 


28o  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

some  people's  names  always  seem  to  bring.  "Look  here,. 
Curtice,  will  you  ask  her  to  speak  to  me  for  a  minute? " 

"  Certainly,  sir.  The  household  is  of  course  rather  upset, 
but  if  you  will  come  into  the  dining-room " 

"  I'll  wait  here,"  said  Lexiter  in  his  off-hand  fashion.  A 
servant  always  recognised  the  master  in  him  and  consented 
to  that  manner.  The  tall  figure  was  just  on  the  spot  where 
the  butler  had  left  him — for  he  had  not  even  sat  down — when 
Lady  D'Aulnoy  appeared  and  approached  him.  There  were 
traces  of  tears  on  her  handsome  face,  and  her  eyes  had  that 
distressed  look  of  shock  which  violent  death  gives  to  a  kindly 
nature.  Caryl  remembered  seeing  it  once  before — when  a 
great  specialist  had  broken  it  to  her  as  gently  as  only  a  doctor 
could,  that  her  own  days  were  probably  numbered  and  her 
heart  fatally  diseased. 

"  My  dear  Caryl,"  she  said  in  a  tone  that  the  house  seemed 
to  have  hushed,  "  what  a  terrible  affair,  is  it  not  ?  So  incon- 
ceivable— his  doctor  can  account  for  it  as  little  as  I !  Won't 
you  come  into  the  dining-room  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Caryl,  with  brief  imperiousness.  Then  he 
smiled  down  on  her  to  excuse  it.  "  I  do  not  want  to  keep  you 
more  than  a  minute — you  are  wanted  here,  I  have  no  doubt. 
Is  there  anything  I  can  do  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so — at  present." 

"  Send  round  to  my  Club  if  there  is,  will  you?  I  am  stay- 
ing there." 

"  Yes — thanks.  I  am  glad  you  are  in  town.  It  is  such 
a  comfort  to  have  a  man  in  the  family  to  appeal  to." 

"The  Harbingers  are  up  too,  you  know." 

"  Yes,   but  dear  Bobby "     She  smiled  deprecatingly. 

"  I  know  they  are  here,  of  course.  Chiffon  came  round  this 
morning,  terribly  upset ;  I  was  really  rather  relieved  she  did 
not  see  Nougat." 

"  How  is  she  ?  " 

"  Nougat  ?  I — don't  know.  I  really  do  not.  The  shock 
seems  to  have  been  greater  to  her  than  I  should  have  ex- 
pected, considering  how  little  they  knew  of  each  other.  You 
see  she — found  him." 

Caryl's  beautiful  mouth  closed  a  little  tightly.  He  had  a 
certain  sensitiveness  about  his  womankind,  that  made  such  a 
situation  really  horrible  to  him.  His  eyes  did  not  for  the 
moment  meet  Aim6e  D'Aulnoy's  concerned  face. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  281 

"  Have  you  the  least  idea  of  any  cause  ?  " 

"  None !  Absolutely  none !  Nougat  asked  me  the  same 
thing — she  said,  rather  pitifully  I  thought,  that  she  was  so 
ignorant,  even  of  his  obvious  position  in  the  business  world, 
that  he  might  be  on  the  verge  of  ruin  and  it  would  never  reach 
her.  Of  course,  I  know  very  little,  but  I  do  not  think  that 
there  was  anything  that  could  cause  it — financially." 

"  Poor  devil !  "  said  Lexiter  under  his  breath. 

"  Of  course,  the  obvious  explanation  is  overstrain,  and  that 
might  easily  be  the  case  with  his  enormous  interests,  and  the 
power  he  held  in  the  Markets.  But  it  is  a  dreadful  affair, 
altogether." 

"  How  does  Nougat  look  ? " 

"  I  have  hardly  seen  her.  She  met  me  when  I  came,  and 
explained  all  that  had  happened  and  what  she  had  done.  I 
was  in  the  Midlands  when  she  wired  to  ask  me  to  come,  and 
of  course  I  got  off  the  minute  I  could,  but  it  happened  twelve 
hours  before  I  reached  her.  She  is  perfectly  controlled^ 
but  I  am  afraid  the  strain  will  tell  on  her  later.  She  obviously 
prefers  to  be  alone,  in  her  own  rooms,  and — you  know  ! — she 
is  not  a  girl  whom  one  could  insist  on  rousing  for  her  good. 
She  is  a  woman,  and  one  no  one  could  intrude  upon  !  " 

"  H'm  !  " — Caryl  threw  up  his  handsome  head  like  an  im- 
patient horse.  "  Well,  I  won't  keep  you.  You  might  go  to 
her  and  tell  her  I  have  been  here — -will  you  ? — and  if  there  is 
anything  she  wants  done  I  will  do  it." 

"I  will."  Lady  D'Aulnoy  smiled  at  him  kindly.  His 
attitude  was  so  obvious,  she  thought !  "  Good  gracious.  Car ! 
I  have  never  asked  all  this  while — what  have  you  done  to 
your  arm  ?  " 

"  A  horse  of  Loftus's  bit  me,"  said  Lexiter  indifferently, 
turning  away.  He  shook  hands  a  trifle  absently,  and  walked 
out  of  the  house,  thinking.  Giles  Mornington's  death  had 
obscured  his  plans  a  little.  The  inscrutability  of  the  suicide, 
now,  after  all  these  years  of  apparent  complaisance,  made  him 
feel  as  if  he  were  groping  in  the  dark.  Would  it  affect 
Nougat,  he  wondered  ?  His  mind  would  hardly  be  reassured 
until  he  had  had  a  talk  with  Lady  Vera. 

Lady  D'Aulnoy  rang  for  the  lift  to  take  her  to  Patricia's 
portion  of  the  house,  with  some  slight  reluctance.  She 
agreed  that  it  was  desirable  to  tell  her  that  Lexiter  had 
called,  and  of  his  willingness  to  serve  her;  but  she  always 


282  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

entered  that  corridor  beyond  the  glass  doors  with  the  feeling 
that  a  swimmer  has  before  the  plunge  into  possibly  cold 
water.  She  never  had  been,  and  felt  that  she  never  could  be, 
met  with  anything  but  the  most  perfect  courtesy  and  welcome. 
Nevertheless,  the  feeling  was  always  there. 

She  met  Patricia's  maid  in  the  passage,  and  sent  her  on  as 
an  emissary.  Patricia  herself  came  to  the  door  of  het 
favourite  sitting-room  and  asked  her  cousin  in — Lady 
D'Aulnoy  had  the  claim  of  Blais  blood,  fortunately  diluted 
with  a  kindlier  strain.  Save  for  the  gravity  of  her  face — a 
gravity  with  a  certain  wonder  in  it — she  looked  far  the  more 
collected  of  the  two. 

"  I  came  up  to  tell  you  that  Caryl  has  just  come  round  to 
see  if  he  could  be  of  any  use,"  said  Lady  D'Aulnoy,  with  an 
unconscious  apology  for  her  presence. 

"  Yes  ?  I  knew  he  was  in  town,"  Patricia  remarked  quietly. 
She  added,  after  an  instant's  pause,  "Lord  Lowndes  told 
me  he  had  seen  him  the  last  time  I  went  to  call  on  the 
Duke." 

"  Poor  fellow,  he  is  in  the  wars ! "  remarked  Lady 
D'Aulnoy,  sitting  down  in  one  of  the  easy  chairs.  "  A  horse 
of  Loftus's  bit  him  in  the  arm,  which  is  in  a  sling  still." 

"  A  horse-bite  is  a  nasty  thing,"  said  Patricia,  remember- 
ing, as  if  it  were  many  years  ago,  her  glow  of  acknowledg- 
ment to  Lexiter's  pluck. 

"  It  is  a  certain  satisfaction  to  know  that  Car  is  at  hand,'' 
said  Lady  D'Aulnoy,  simply.  "  There  are  so  many  details  for 
a  man  to  manage,  and  Bobby  Chilcote  is  a  dear  good  soul, 
but  he  affects  me  just  like  a  policeman.  I  always  feel  a 
policeman  so  hot  when  he  does  anything  for  me  !  Something 
in  that  stuffy  blue  cloth  they  wear,  I  fancy." 

"  Lord  Harbinger  is  rather  apt  to  become  official  the 
minute  he  gets  beyond  slang,"  acknowledged  Patricia.  "  Did 
Caryl" — her  voice  suddenly  failed  her  to  her  own  surprise. 
The  stunned  sensation,  which  had  made  her  impassive 
ever  since  she  forgot  to  ring  her  bell  because  of  the  report 
of  a  revolver,  seemed  to  give  way  to  another  dull  ache — the 
pang  that  came  immediately  before  the  more  horrible  shock. 
She  wondered  if  Caryl  had  mentioned  anything  about  the 
Harbingers — it  seemed  to  her  now  impossible  to  dissever  him 
from  Chiffon.  She  hoped  her  face  did  not  fail  her  as  her 
voice  had  done. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  283 

"  Yes,  he  wanted  to  see  you,"  said  Lady  D'AuInoy,  catching 
at  the  obvious  ending  of  Nougat's  sentence.  "  I  suppose  that 
is  only  to  be  expected." 

There  was  only  the  vaguest  suggestion  in  the  words,  but 
Patricia  suddenly  and  gravely  forced  it  to  its  final  meaning. 
She  turned  her  large  reflective  eyes  on  Lady  D'AuInoy  and 
spoke  quite  deliberately. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  Caryl  has  any  personal  feeling  for  me 
that  would  make  his  sympathy  an  intimate  thing?  " 

Lady  D'AuInoy,  driven  to  bay,  took  refuge  in  her  training. 

"  I  mean  no  more  than  you  do.  Nougat,  dear !  It  was  an 
idle  speech." 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  said  Patricia,  still  in  the  same 
thoughtful  tone.  "  I  do  not  believe  that  Caryl  has,  or  ever 
could  have,  any  real  feeling  for  me — I  mean  that  he  is  not 
in  the  least  in  love  with  me,"  she  added  plainly.  "  I  am 
afraid  of  your  having  any  misconception  over  this,  and  treat- 
ing him  with  too  much  confidence  as  one  of  the  family — that 
is  all." 

What  it  was  her  sharpened  senses  really  feared  she  could 
not  say.  The  feeling  of  dread,  or  discovery  of  a  reason  for 
that  awful  figure  she  had  found  face  downwards  on  the  floor, 
kept  her  strung  to  breaking  point  night  and  day.  She  seemed 
still  to  be  waiting  for  a  fresh  shock  to  folloAV  on  the  last,  and 
the  thought  of  sharing  the  dead  man's  secret  with  an  un- 
licensed outsider  who  had  crept  in  under  false  pretences,  was 
abhorrent  to  her.  Momington  was  still  her  father  to  her 
mind,  and  she  was  guarding  his  undiscovered  secret  jealously. 
Lexiter  should  not  chance  upon  it  through  any  false  claim  on 
her.  But  with  a  very  feminine  impulse  to  unburden  her 
overwrought  heart,  she  longed  to  ask  a  desperate  question  of 
Lady  D'Aulnov  as  to  the  lesser  grief.  Was  it  an  open  shame, 
or  had  she  onlv  stumbled  upon  it?  Did  all  the  world  smile 
covertly  at  Chiffon,  and  know  that  Lexiter  was  her  lover? 

"  He  seemed  very  really  concerned  about  you  to-day ! " 
Lady  D'AuInoy  said  feebly.  She  had  the  same  uncomfortable 
feeling  from  Nougat's  bald  statements  as  she  would  have  done 
faced  with  nakedness,  being  long  accustomed  to  clothes. 

"  He  has  an  invaluable  manner ! "  said  Patricia  with  the 
first  hint  of  bitterness  she  had  shown. 

"  But,  Nougat,  tell  me "  (there  is  a  certain  fine  curiosity 

even  in  the  best  women.     Lady  D'AuInoy  was  really  a  little 


284  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

consoled  for  the  discomfort  of  plain  speaking  by  the  chance 
of  fresh  discoveries.)  "Why  do  you  assert  so  positively  that 
the  man  does  not  care  for  you  ?  We  have  all  known — no  one 
could  help  knowing ! — that  he  was  more  serious  than  anyone 
has  ever — well,  I  mean  that  you  had  only  to  hold  up  your 
hand  and  say  '  Come  ! '  " 

"  Other  women  have  only  had  to  make  the  same  movement, 
however,  have  they  not?  "  Patricia's  words  never  came  fast. 
But  she  weighed  each  one  so  anxiously  now  that  they  seemed 
to  herself  to  drag.     "  And  they  also  have  said  Come  !  " 

"  0-oh  !  "  A  long  breath  of  extreme  surprise  escaped  Lady 
D'Aulnoy.  She  was  genuinely  fond  of  Patricia,  and  had 
fancied  that  she  understood  her  better  than  most  people ;  but 
this  mental  attitude  was  decidedly  new.  Had  it  been  a 
younger  woman,  a  girl,  such  objections  might  have  been  ex- 
pected. But  Patricia  was  four  and  twenty,  and  seemed  so 
tolerant  of  life,  that  scruples  over  a  man's  past  life  were  the 
last  that  Lady  D'Aulnoy  had  expected.  She  found  herself 
hurrying  into  expostulation. 

"  Oh,  these  things  are  so  exaggerated  !  And  the  poor  man 
is  the  victim  of  his  own  charm.  What  can  you  expect  with 
the  manner  you  acknowledge  invaluable  ?  Of  course  the 
world  says  he  is  irresistible  to  women.  Well,  one  knows 
what  that  means — obvious  success,  and  other  men's  envy. 
Don't  be  jealous.  Nougat ;  take  my  advice.  It's  never  worth 
while." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  am  jealous,"  said  Patricia  slowly,  and 
still  in  that  guarded  tone.  "  I  was  not  generalising  either — 
I  was  thinking  of  one  particular  instance.  Have  you — heard 
any  one  name  mentioned  with  Caryl's  more  than  another?" 

Had  she  been  looking  at  Lady  D'Aulnoy  she  would  have 
seen  a  horror  of  dismay  in  her  eyes  disproportionate  even  to 
such  plain  speaking.  But  Patricia's  own  saddened  face  was 
turned  to  the  window,  where,  beneath  the  already  falling 
leaves  from  the  Green  Park,  the  respectable  dull  World 
bustled  by — the  Middle  Classes  that  go  about  their  business 
from  year's  end  to  year's  end,  until  it  seems  that  the  less  for- 
tunate among  them  never  have  a  holiday. 

"  Of  course  one  hears — all  sorts  of  things,"  gasped  Lady 
D'Aulnoy,  in  a  low  voice.  "  Things  one  can't  discuss. 
Nougat !  " 

"  I  am  not  asking  you  to  discuss  them ! "  said  the  younger 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  285 

woman  quickly,   her  brown  eyes  coming  back  with  a  flash 
from  their  distant   survey.     "  It  is  the  last  thing  I  intend. 
But  I  ask  you  to  put  yourself  in  my  place — would  you,  under 
the  circumstances,  think  of  Caryl  Lexiter  again  in  any  capacity 
save  as  a  friend  for  whom  one  has  to  feel — a  great  resent- 
menti     I  see  that  you  know  the  case  of  which  I  was  think- 
ing !  "  she  added,  and  the  disheartened  tone  was  for  Chiffon. 
But  to  Lady  D'Aulnoy's  horrified  ears  it  meant  something 
widely    different — something    incredible    in    Nougat's    clean 
mind,  which  could  be  saddened  by  sins  other  than  her  own, 
but  was  not  yet  soiled  by  them.     "  Yes,  I  know — a  good  many 
people  know,  I  am  afraid  !  "  said  the  older  woman  desperately. 
"  But,  dear  Nougat,  one  can't  discuss  that  with  you !     How 
on  earth  you  ever  heard — !     But  people  are  worse  than  in- 
discreet;  they  are  brutes!     And   then  you  must  remember 
that  it  all  happened  ten  years  ago — when  you  were  a  child  at 
school.     To  rake  that  up  now  is  so  unnecessary.     It  ought 
to  have   died   a  natural  death.      I   suppose  finding  him  so 
intimate  here  surprised  you?     Of  course  to  a  new-comer  it 
might  seem  odd.     I  suppose  we  have  all  got  used  to  it!" 
She  ended  with  a  brief  impatient  sigh,  and  really  to  the  warm- 
hearted womanhood  under  her  acquired  indifference  to  other 
people's    sins,   she    felt   a  momentary  impatience  that  such 
things  should  be.     It  seemed  hard  to  drag  a  nice  woman 
like  Nougat  in  the  dirt  track  left  by  old  chariot  wheels  .... 
Throughout  the   whole    of   that   long,    rambling    speech, 
Patricia  had  not  made  a  movement.     But  she  had,  appar- 
ently,  fallen  back   into   her   former  state  of   apathy.     She 
•looked,  when  Lady  D'Aulnoy  raised  her  eyes,  as  if  she  had 
turned  to  stone.     There  was  no  added  compression  of  the 
lips,  no  betrayal  in  the  drooped  eyes ;  nevertheless,  a  mask 
of  actual  secrecy   had  suddenly  fallen  upon  her  face.     To 
Lady  D'Aulnoy's  relief  she  began  to  speak  of  something  else, 
as  if  by  chance  reminded  of  it,  and  the  conversation  drifted 
to  other  topics  before  Aimee  D'Aulnoy  was  summoned  away 
to  answer  some  question  for  the  household,  leaving  Patricia 
unworried  by  the  small  detail. 

"  If  you  would  just  tell  them  for  me "  she  said,  and 

Lady  D'Aulnoy  was  glad  to  have  some  definite  help  to  give, 
for  an  uneasiness  of  the  past  discussion  still  haunted  her 
mind. 

When  she  wai  alone,  Patricia  rose  rather  suddenly  and 


286  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

went  to  the  window.  She  put  her  two  strong  hands  on  the 
sash  and  wrenched  it  up,  clinging  to  the  woodwork,  however, 
as  if  she  needed  support.  A  hideous  thing  had  happened  to 
her — a  thing  more  hideous  even  that  that  mangled  figure 
downstairs.     What  was  this  that  they  said — what  was  this? 

"A  good  many  people  had  known  it Seeing  him 

so  intimate  here  you  thought  it  odd? But  we  all 

got  so  used  to  it,  I  suppose ! "  What  was  this  that  they  said 
— that  they  meant  ?  It  had  come  like  a  shock  of  revelation, 
when  that  poor,  kind-hearted  woman  had  unconsciously 
hinted  at  a  grisly  secret. 

"  It  all  happened  ten  years  ago — when  you  were  still  at 
school !  "  Yes,  and  at  school  with — Chiffon.  It  was  not 
Chiffon,  then,  of  whose  shame  many  people  knew.  It  was 
— who? 

There  are  some  things  one  cannot  face  even  in  one's  own 
mind  in  the  first  keenness  of  knowing  them.  Patricia  stood 
still  a  long  while,  with  only  that  grip  of  her  hands  upon  the 
window  to  tell  of  the  tension  of  her  mind.  Her  eyes  were 
following  the  tired,  sordid  stream  of  people  below  her,  and 
she  was  forcing  her  mind  to  follow  a  little  way  further  on 
into  their  lives,  in  order  to  avoid  thinking — what  ? 

Gradually — gradually — the  wicked  thought  crept  to  her 
and  clung,  revealing  itself  like  a  snake,  until  she  almost  fancied 
it  a  material,  loathsome  thing,  gliding  towards  her  across  the 
room,  and  shuddered  where  she  stood  at  the  window.  It 
touched  her  now,  calling  her  attention  to  a  dozen  things  that 
bore  witness  of  its  ugly  truth.  The  inevitable  intimacy  that 
she  had  vaguely  resented  between  Lexiter  and  the  woman 
who  was  her  mother,  spoke  suddenly  with  a  shrill  accusation. 
She  had  condemned  it  without  questioning  its  source,  as  the 
result  of  certain  manners  adopted  by  the  Blais  family ;  several 
men  were  "  friends "  of  Lady  Vera's,  and  had  shades  of  the 
same  manner,  though  none  were  of  the  exact  quality  of 
Lexiter's.  There  was  a  deep  familiarity  that  cropped  up  in 
his  intercourse  with  Lady  Vera,  that  Patricia  had  thought 
must  be  the  outcome  of  years ;  now  it  seemed  the  outcome  of 
something  more  harmful.  There  were  allusions,  jests,  half- 
checked  reminiscences  once  or  twice  that  explained  them- 
selves now,  while  she  marvelled  that  they  could  have  been  so 
reckless,  or  have  found  it  possible  to  laugh  above  the  grave 
of  such  a  secret.     Most  people  are  under  the  impression  that 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  287 

the  breaking  of  the  Seventh  Commandment  is  a  tragic  thing, 
or  at  least  a  solemn  act  to  the  passion-ridden  transgressors. 
This  is  a  mistake  engendered  by  never  knowing  of  them  until 
they  are  in  the  guise  of  penitents,  because  found  out.  It  is 
usually  a  sin  provocative  of  some  amusement,  unless  it  is  a 
single  offence  with  elements  of  violence  in  it  that  make  it 
partake  of  the  hideous  quality  of  murder.  The  sinners  who 
slip  into  sin  more  daintily  and  gradually,  come  to  regard  it  as 
pardonable  under  the  title  of  Unlawful  Love,  and  have 
generally  some  memory  of  laughter  left  them  with  the  after- 
taste of  tears.  If  one  could  compel  truth  from  a  woman  who 
had  often  lapsed  from  virtue,  she  would  be  bound  to  confess 
to  ludicrous  incidents  that,  at  the  time  at  least,  conferred  an 
aspect  of  comedy  on  the  affair.  Don  Juan  in  Julia's  bed  is 
after  all  a  laughable  object,  and  the  witticisms  of  the  "  Contes 
Drolatiques "  undeniable ;  but  there  is  nothing  comic  in 
Lucrece — or  Tamar. 

But  Patricia  could  not  recognise  the  situation  as  anything 
but  criminal,  and  in  consequence  the  lightness  with  which  it 
now  seemed  to  her  that  they  had  treated  it  was  but  one  more 
proof  of  their  mental  and  moral  degradation.  Caryl  Lexiter 
and  her  mother!  Caryl  Lexiter,  the  man  this  mother  had 
tacitly  encouraged  to  marry  her  daughter,  if  she  had  not  done 
so  plainly.  Probably  she  had  done  so  to  him ;  it  was  a  bar- 
gain between  them — the  old  mistress  marrying  her  sometime 
lover  to  her  daughter,  as  a  last  indifferent  favour — with  a 
fortune  tacked  on  !  The  cruel  blood  rose  to  the  girl's  very 
forehead  and  burned  her  beautiful  face  until  it  was  not  good 
to  look  upon.  She  could  have  cried  out  under  the  degrada- 
tion offered  her,  and  the  bitter  hurt  which  seemed  to  be  in 
her  very  soul.  And  then  for  the  first  time  hurrying  suspicions 
began  to  throb  in  her  brain  until  they  threatened  to  drive  her 
mad.  Why  did  they  all  hold  her  so  cheaply?  What  w'as 
the  reason  for  Lady  Vera's  complaisance  in  marrying  her  to 
a  man  no  longer  young,  with  a  reckless  past  and  an  indifferent 
future  ?  Self-interest  (Patricia  scornfully  denied  her  any 
kindlier  reason,  in  her  fierce  anger)  suggested  that  she  might 
have  made  a  better  bargain,  and  contrived  a  more  brilliant 
match,  for  her  own  aggrandisement.  Had  the  man  a  hold 
over  the  woman,  that  she  had  not  attempted  it?  Did  he 
know  of  some  other  shame  besides  his  own  intrigue,  to  force 
her  to  use  her  influence  on  his  side,  and,  if  so,  how  many 


288  AS   YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

scandals  were  there  to  make  her  mother's  name  too  vile  to 
take  between  clean  lips  ! 

Her  grasping  hands  left  the  window  suddenly  and  went  to 
her  full  white  throat  as  if  she  were  choking.  Was  this  the 
reason  of  that  figure  on  the  floor,  face  downwards,  that  she 
had  found  ?  And  had  he  felt  it  intolerable  after  twenty-five 
years — alas !  no  wonder  that  patience  was  outraged  at  last ! 
Perhaps  there  was  some  new  shame  he  knew  of — perhaps 
that  party  at  Alassio 

Patricia  turned  from  the  window  and  walked  uncertainly 
into  the  middle  of  the  room.  In  a  few  hours  that  woman 
whom  she  had  never  liked  would  be  in  the  same  house  with 
her,  stripped  for  ever,  to  her  knowledge,  of  her  pretence  of 
decency.  She  had  no  doubt  of  the  discovery  on  which  she 
had  stumbled  through  Lady  D'Aulnoy's  mistaking  her  half- 
confidence — too  many  things  confirmed  it  for  her  to  doubt. 
But  one  thought  remained  to  her  to  give  her  comfort,  and 
was  as  a  rock  to  her  feet  when  the  solid  support  of  her  tra- 
ditions seemed  to  be  torn  away. 

"  I  am  not  only  born  of  that  woman,"  she  said  to  herself, 
in  feverish  assurance.  "  There  is  not  only  lying,  traitorous 
blood  in  my  veins.  I  belong  to  him  too — the  poor,  poor  man, 
who  was  her  victim  also,  and  who  doubted  me  because  I  was 
her  child.  He,  my  father,  brought  me  a  better  inheritance 
in  a  descent  from  honest  men  and  decent  women.  I  am  no 
thorough-bred,  thank  God.  The  racehorse  is  crossed  in 
me  with  the  dull  serviceable  roadster.  I  also  am  of  the  Great 
Middle  Class !" 

High  up  on  the  wall  above  her  head,  there  was  a  portrait 
of  Lady  Helen  Chilcote.  It  was  done  in  crayon,  and  was 
very  much  as  Momington  had  known  her.  A  fine  face,  so 
fine  as  to  be  almost  severe,  with  a  lace  scarf  thrown  over  the 
grey  hair  and  folded  about  the  neck.  The  proud  pictured 
eyes  looked  down  on  the  tempest-tossed  reality  of  that  living 
figure  below  them  with  inscrutable  sadness.  Something  in 
the  portrait  gave  people  who  saw  it  for  the  first  time  a  feeling 
of  being  checked — almost  as  if  the  haughty  old  face  were  a 
perpetual  type  of  denial. 

*  I  must— I  am  !  "  said  eager  flesh  and  blood. 

"  You  will  not — ^you  will  learn  the  meaning  of  No !  "  said 
the  portrait. 


289 


CHAPTER   XX. 

"  Her  spirit  haunts  the  Earth  to  prove 

The  impotence  of  Womanhood. 
With  eyes  that  never  look  above 
She  tortures  with  her  human  love 

God's  dream  of  good. 

"  And  still,  wherever  Nature  wreaks 

Her  vengeance  for  her  thwarted  plan, 
The  Magdalene  in  Woman  speaks — 
She  seeks  no  Christ,  she  only  seeks 
A  very  man." 

The  Magdalene. 

Lady  Vera  did  not  appear  in  Piccadilly  until  after  the  in- 
quest, on  the  day  before  the  funeral,  when  she  arrived  on 
the  doorstep  with  an  escort,  the  last  remnant  of  the  Alassio 
party,  who  bade  her  good-bye  with  a  somewhat  craven  haste, 
and  retreated  to  his  Club.  Ten  minutes  after  her  mistress, 
arrived  the  maid,  fagged  with  the  responsibility  of  much 
luggage,  and  wearying  for  tea.  The  gods  favoured  her,  and 
before  she  reached  Lady  Vera's  rooms — still  hugging  a  jewel- 
case  and  a  cloak — she  encountered  Patricia,  by  no  means  too 
absorbed  in  the  crisis  of  the  moment  to  see  that  human 
nature  is  sometimes  over-driven  like  cattle. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Selfe,"  she  said  kindly.  "  You  have  had 
a  long  journey,  and  are  tired,  I  am  afraid." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Miss  Mornington !  I  am  thankful  to  get 
home  at  last ! "  said  the  woman,  with  faint  resentment  of  her 
burdens.  The  diamonds  never  weighed  amongst  Lady  Vera's 
reddened  locks  (though  she  pronounced  the  tiara  a  leaden 
beast !)  as  they  did  on  Selfe's  mind. 

"  You  will  want  your  tea,"  said  Patricia. 

"I  was  going  to  see  if  my  lady  wants  anything  unpacked 

19 


290  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

at  once "     Selfe    hesitated.     Consideration   was    not   a 

tenet  of  the  Blais'  creed. 

"  I  have  not  seen  Lady  Vera  yet.  I  am  going  to  her  now 
— you  will  have  time  to  get  a  cup  of  tea  while  I  am  talking 
to  her,"  said  Patricia  quietly,  and  turned  to  her  mother's  door 
before  she  heard  the  woman's  murmured,  but  really  genuine 
thanks. 

"  Come  in ! "  said  Lady  Vera  impatiently,  and  the  note  of 
aggravation  in  her  tone  betrayed  the  strain  on  her  mind  to 
Patricia.  She  looked  up  with  a  slight  start  as  her  daughter 
entered,  and  for  a  second  she  hesitated.  The  last  time  they 
had  had  an  interview  was  when  Patricia  had  declined  to  go 
to  Alassio,  but  her  own  galling  defeat  was  not  now  in  Lady 
Vera's  mind.  Her  thoughts  were  darkened  with  new  fears 
and  ugly  possibilities,  and  there  was  a  touch  of  desperate 
pluck  in  the  way  she  faced  the  situation.  For  that  silent, 
speechless  figure  somewhere  in  the  great  house  (she  did  not 
know  where  her  dead  husband  was  lying  yet)  was  a  worse 
menace  than  he  had  been  in  life.  Then  she  had  learned  a 
kind  of  reckless  security ;  after  all  these  years  she  was  certain 
that  he  would  not  speak.  But  now  his  very  action,  the  closed 
lips  that  had  shut  once  and  for  ever,  might  be  an  accusation 
that  would  reach  the  intelligence  of  this  antagonist  who  was 
her  daughter.  After  that  second's  hesitation,  she  made  a 
movement  forward  and  kissed  Patricia's  smooth  unresponsive 
cheek. 

"  My  poor  Nougat !  How  terrible  for  you  all  this  must 
have  been !  "  she  said  in  a  properly  shocked  tone. 

Patricia  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  with  something  that 
was  almost  curiosity  in  her  great  eyes.  It  is  very  difficult 
for  eyes  of  that  shade  of  brown — clear  colour,  with  a  dash  of 
chestnut  in  them — to  look  cold;  but  Lady  Vera  was  resent- 
fully conscious  of  feeling  as  if  a  glacier  had  looked  at  her. 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  any  details  ?  "  said  Patricia  com- 
posedly. "  I  found  him,  you  know.  He  was  in  the  pan- 
elled room,  lying " 

"  Don't !  "  Lady  Vera  put  two  white  hands  up  to  her  ears 
vilth  an  exclamation  like  a  scream.  There  was  a  cowed  pro- 
test in  her  angry  eyes.  "  How  can  you  think  I  want  to 
know  ?  "  she  said  furiously.  "  It  sickens  me  even  to  think  of 
it.  Don't  tell  me !  I  detest  ghastly  details.  I  should  think 
of  them  for  ever  after.     It  is  a  hideous  thing  altogether." 


AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN.  291 

"  Yes,  it  was  a  hideous  thing,"  said  Patricia,  in  the  same 
composed  manner.  "  A  thing  to  be  thrust  out  of  one's  easy 
life  and  forgotten  as  soon  as  possible,  is  it  not  ?  "  She  moved 
a  step  nearer  to  her  mother  with  a  fearlessness  that  made 
Lady  Vera  catch  her  breath  and  shrink  again.  "Do  you 
know — have  you  the  least  idea — what  was  his  motive  for  doing 
it — now  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Now !  "  Lady  Vera  repeated  the  word  under  her  breath,  as 
one  paralysed  by  sudden  fear.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  Why 
do  you  say  now?  He  must  have  been  mad,  and  acted  with 
a  sudden  impulse — probably  he  overtaxed  his  brain  with 
schemes.  He  was  always  scheming  and  calculating !  The 
money  drove  him  mad  at  last — they  always  bring  it  in  tem- 
porary insanity !  " 

"  Oh,  yes — they  always  bring  it  in  temporary  insanity ! 
They  will  say  he  became  overwrought — that  his  brain  failed 
under  some  vast  speculation.  Possibly  they  will  put  it  down 
to  losses " 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Lady  Vera  sharply.  "  Do  you  know  any- 
thing ?  Has  there  been  any  rumour  ?  Had  he  made  a  false 
step  at  last?  I  am  so  absolutely  in  ignorance — I  am  in  the 
dark  about  all  his  affairs  ! " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Patricia  indifferently.  "  I  have 
heard  no  rumour.  I  was  merely  suggesting  that  that  was 
what  people  would  probably  say.  But  the  real  reason  why 
he  would  not  live  any  longer — I  want  to  know  what  that 
was  ?  " 

Lady  Vera's  glance  was  hard  with  suspicion.  Suddenly 
she  turned  away,  shrugging  her  sloping  shoulders. 

"  I  know  no  more  than  you,"  she  said"  harshly,  and  all  the 
metal  of  her  voice  clanged  defiance.  "  I  was  not  in  his  con- 
fidence, as  you  must  know !  It  was  no  possible  secret  that 
we  had  become  estranged  years  ago.  If  you  lived  in  the 
house  there  was  no  fiction  about  it.  He  went  his  own  way 
— I  went  mine.     You  know  as  much  as  I  do." 

"  Yes,  he  went  his  own  way ! "  said  Patricia  bitterly. 
"  Poor,  poor  man !  At  last  his  own  way  was  a  safe  one  out 
of  it  all." 

Lady  Vera's  shoulders  were  again  her  mode  of  expression, 
"  I  really  don't  know  what  has  come  to  you,  Nougat,"  she 
said  curtly.  "  You  are  taking  a  sentimental  line  in  which  I 
am  sorry  I  cannot  follow  you.     I  don't  even  understand  what 

19* 


292  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

you  mean — and  I  don't  want  any  further  explanations,  thank 
you ! "  she  added  with  sharp  haste. 

Patricia  met  the  tawny,  shallow  eyes  with  a  species  of 
hopeless  scorn  in  her  own.  When  people  admired  Lady 
Vera  they  always  described  her  eyes  as  brilliant.  At  the 
moment  it  seemed  to  Patricia  that  they  had  one  quality  in 
common  with  a  wild  beast's,  for  the  light  in  them  played 
upon  the  surface  and  did  not  shine  up  and  through  the  iris 
as  is  the  case  with  Humanity,  and  which  may  come  from  a 
more  developed  soul — granting  the  possession  of  such  a  dis- 
tinction. The  shock  and  horror  of  Mornington's  death  had 
for  the  time  dulled  her  remembrance  of  the  horrible  know- 
ledge she  had  gained  about  her  mother,  and  in  a  sense  had 
been  an  advantage  in  that  it  robbed  their  meeting  of  the 
acute  discomfort  she  might  have  felt.  But  she  recalled  it 
all  now  with  frightful  suddenness,  and  turned  her  face  from 
Lady  Vera  with  a  shamed  impulse.  To  Patricia's  nicer 
senses  she  stood  revealed  as  a  woman  who  was  for  ever 
cheapened  to  a  level  she  could  not  conceive  as  possible  to 
oneself — however  charitable  one  might  be  to  sins  in  theory. 
And  there  was  not  only  the  humiliation  of  multiplying  her 
slips  from  virtue  in  probability,  but  the  added  pang  of  the 
destiny  intended  for  herself — to  be  the  obliging  wife  of  a 
cast-off  lover,  a  useful  catspaw,  disposed  of  with  mutual  satis- 
faction. Her  pride  writhed  a  little  as  she  asked  herself 
fiercely,  over  again,  why  she  had  been  used  like  this !  Was 
there  some  darker  reason  even  now  not  revealed  to  her,  a 
fresh  degradation  in  store? — 

"  Well,  I  think  I  will  ring  for  tea,  and  ask  Aim^e  to  come 
and  talk  things  over  with  me — you  are  hardly  a  cheerful  com- 
panion. Nougat!  Curtice  told  me  she  was  here."  The 
metallic  voice  broke  in  on  Patricia's  painful  mental  question, 
and  jarred  upon  her  like  a  discord. 

"  Yes,  she  has  been  here  since  Wednesday,"  she  said 
mechanically.  "  I  have  had  tea  already,  myself.  Are  you 
dining  in  your  own  rooms?  " 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  so.  There  is  a  certain  dreary  ceremony 
we  are  bound  to  endure,  I  expect.  I  shall  ask  Aim6e  to  join 
me,  of  course.     If  you  like  to  come  also,  pray  do." 

"  I  think  I  will  ask  you  to  excuse  me,  thanks.  I  do  not 
know  when  I  may  dine — I  have  some  letters  to  write." 

Lady  Vera  did  not  answer.     She  was  standing,  as  she  had 


AS   YE  HAVE  SOWN.  293 

been  ever  since  Patricia  entered,  and  when  the  door  closed 
behind  the  giri  she  began  to  move  impatiently  from  one  object 
to  another,  her  restless  hands  and  bitter  lips  a  truer  indication 
of  her  state  of  mind  than  any  words.  Once  she  sighed  im- 
patiently, with  a  vehemence  that  made  it  almost  a  gasp,  and 
when  she  rang  the  bell  the  peal  of  it  awoke  forcible  ^comments 
in  the  servants'  quarters,  like  a  malevolent  echo.  As  Lady 
D'Aulnoy  entered  she  was  still  fretting  to  and  fro  among  her 
possessions,  but  she  greeted  her  kinswoman  with  obvious 
relief. 

"How  are  you,  Aimee,  dear?  So  good  of  you  to  come 
and  stay  here !  I  thoroughly  appreciate  it — it  is  the  kind  of 
thing  I  positively  loathe  doing  myself.  Yes,  we  had  a 
wretched  journey,  hot  and  hurried,  and  no  time  to  breathe. 
And  this  house  is  simply  disgy — vile !  It  has  the  smell  of 
an  undertaker's !  " 

"  Have  you  seen  Nougat  yet  ? "  said  Lady  D'Aulnoy  as 
they  kissed  each  other — the  Blais  family  was  always  ready  to 
kiss  and  to  use  affectionate  adjectives. 

"Yes."  Lady  Vera's  face  darkened.  "She  has  just  left 
me — in  one  of  her  moods !  When  she  talks  in  that  un- 
restrained, morbid  fashion  of  hers,  it  tries  my  patience.  I 
really  think  she  is  a  crank  at  times!  Helen  Chilcote  was 
just  the  same." 

"  Nougat  has  had  a  very  trying  time  of  it,"  said  Lady 
D'Aulnoy.  "  She  looks  to  me  as  if  she  were  suffering  from 
the  shock  now." 

"  I  daresay.  I  suppose  it  may  have  unhinged  her.  It 
would  have  made  me  really  ill  with  nerves." 

"  She  does  not  suffer  from  nerves.  When  I  came  I  found 
her  quite  composed — only  there  was  that  strained  look  in 
her  face.  I  think  if  she  gave  way  a  little  more  she  might 
suffer  less." 

"  I  have  never  understood  Nougat.  Chiffon  is  much  more 
like  my  daughter." 

"  Chiffon  was  here  this  morning — they  are  staying  on  in 
town  for  a  few  days.  Bobby  thought  he  might  be  of  use, 
and  Car  has  been  waiting  to  see  you,  too." 

"  I  know  less  than  they !  "  said  Lady  Vera,  in  exasperated 
anger.  "  When  did  Giles  ever  tell  me  anything  ?  After — 
after  to-morrow  I  must  go  into  his  rooms  and  look  among 
his  papers.     I  hardly  know  the  name  of  his  lawyers." 


294  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

"  You  haven't  heard  from  them  ?  " 

"  Not  a  line.  I  have  looked  through  that  pile  of  letters 
already,  expecting  some  sort  of  communication.  I  do  not 
know,  beyond  my  settlements,  how  I  am  left." 

"  Oh,  it  must  be  all  right — he  would  not  treat  you  badly 
now,  after  all  these  years !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  The  tigress  in  Lady  Vera  spoke  fiercely — 
there  was  no  pretence  in  her  now,  not  even  the  decency  of 
an  outward  veneer.  "  Those  silent,  hard  men  are  always 
brutal.  He  was  vindictive — it  was  in  his  blood.  Don't  you 
know  how  little  one  looks  for  generosity  or  gratitude  from 
servants  ?  As  one  goes  a  little  higher  in  the  social  scale  one 
does  not  find  a  much  broader  spirit.     He  never  forgave  me 

certain  things.     Aimee,  I  cannot  be  sorry  that  that 

man  is  dead !  I  own  to  you  that  it  is  a  relief  to  me.  I 
dreaded  his  iron  indiff-erence,  and  I  could  never  tell  in  the 
least  what  he  would  do — no,  not  after  all  these  years  spent  in 
the  same  house  !  " 

"  Poor  man  ! "  said  Aimee  D'Aulnoy,  with  an  unconscious 
echo  of  Patricia.  She  had  liked  Giles  Momington,  and  it 
was  a  shock  to  her  to  hear  the  truth  about  his  wife's  feeling 
for  him,  though  she  had  known  it,  tacitly,  for  years. 

"  Poor  me,  rather !  "  said  Vera  Momington  harshly.  "  They 
have  been  living  shadows  on  my  life  for  the  best  part  of  it, 
he  and  Patricia — Patricia!  ^^  she  broke  off  venomously,  "do 
you  remember  his  insisting  on  my  naming  her  that  ?  It  was 
one  of  his  brutal  ironies — I  hated  him  for  it !  I  have  never 
called  her  so — I  knew  what  he  meant  every  time  he  used  the 
name !  " 

"  Vera !  "  exclaimed  Lady  D'Aulnoy,  shocked  into  a  protest 
that  checked  her  kinswoman's  reckless  tongue. 

The  arrival  of  the  mistress  of  the  house  seemed  to  awaken 
it  suddenly  from  its  trance  of  silence  to  vulgar  activity  and 
bustle  again.  Even  on  the  day  of  the  funeral  people  began 
to  come  and  go,  and  once  that  quiet  figure  was  carried  out  of 
it  for  ever,  even  the  rooms  where  he  had  lain  were  no  longer 
sacred.  The  privacy  which  he  had  held  with  an  iron  hand 
for  so  many  years  was  invaded  at  last,  and  his  carefully-kept 
memoranda  and  papers  ruthlessly  disturbed  for  some  sign  of 
the  disposal  of  his  property.  It  was  significant  of  the  little 
that  was  known  either  of  his  wishes  or  intentions  that  it  had 
been  an  open  question  as  to  where  he  should  be  buried,  and 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  295 

no  one  could  say  with  certainty  that  this  or  that  place  was  the 

fittest  for  the  great  financier,  the  whole  of  whose  wealth  could 
only  buy  him  six  feet  of  turf  now  for  his  personal  need.  He 
had  never  had  a  country  property,  save  the  small  one  at  Rye. 
His  family  and  connections  had  drifted  out  of  his  life  for  so 
many  years  that  any  association  with  a  graveyard  or  tombs  of 
former  Momingtons  was  unknown  to  those  left  in  authority. 
In  Lady  Vera's  absence  the  decision  lay  with  Patricia,  and 
she  gave  the  word  for  Rye,  or  at  least  for  the  nearest  available 
spot.  The  arrangements  were  made  even  before  Lady  Vera's 
telegram  confirmed  the  choice,  and  so,  after  all,  Giles  Morn- 
ington  was  taken  back  to  the  place  he  had  called  a  haven  of 
refuge,  and  which  he  would  not  desecrate  with  violence.  And 
Patricia,  sitting  in  her  quiet  room  above  the  monotonous  roll 
and  roar  of  Piccadilly,  looked  at  the  drawn  blinds  and 
wondered  piteously  if  she  had  divined  his  wish,  or  if  she  had 
failed  in  this  as  in  all  else  with  regard  to  him. 

The  back-rush  of  life  and  stir  after  the  quiet  of  death 
hardly  reached  her  at  first  in  her  own  quarters  of  the  vast 
house,  and  she  had  time  to  think  of  the  change  this  meant 
in  the  household,  and  to  foresee  alterations  pending.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  this  second  break  in  the  chain  of  her  life 
was  the  fittest  occasion  for  a  change  of  the  circumstances 
which  had  been  nearly  intolerable  before,  and  would  be  quite 
so  now.  She  did  not  think  that  her  mother  and  herself  could 
live  on  side  by  side,  as  they  had  been  doing.  Some  ex- 
planation they  were  bound  to  come  to,  of  the  claims  of  Lexiter 
if  of  nothing  else ;  and  Patricia  realised  with  a  certain  stern- 
ness that  the  sooner  their  independence  of  action  was  settled 
the  more  chance  there  was  for  the  guarded  peace  which  was 
all  that  could  be  between  them.  The  inheritance  of  Morn- 
ington's  millions  did  not  more  than  cross  her  mind ;  her  life 
was  fortunately  independent  even  of  his  money,  owing  to 
Lady  Helen  having  left  her  god-daughter  the  eight  hundred 
a  year  which  was  all  that  she  had  possessed.  But  before 
many  days  were  passed  she  became  aware  that  the  disposal 
of  Momington's  money  was  affecting  all  her  world  if  not  her- 
self, and  that  it  had  a  certain  significance  with  regard  to  her 
in  her  tortured,  questioning  mind,  at  least. 

Lady  Vera  had  sent  for  the  solicitors  usually  employed  by 
the  financier  as  soon  as  she  learned  their  names ;  but  the 
courteous  representative  of  the  firm  who  waited  upon  her 


296  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

had  little  to  communicate.  They  had  made  no  will  or  disposal 
of  his  property  for  Giles  Momington,  and  the  minute  search 
and  enquiry  that  followed  only  resulted  in  the  gradual  con- 
clusion that  one  of  the  richest  men  in  England  had  died 
intestate.  In  the  sanctity  of  her  own  room  Lady  Vera  spoke 
bitterly  to  Aimee  D'Aulnoy,  and  to  her  daughter,  of  this 
amazing  discovery,  and  her  anger  tricked  her  into  indiscretion. 
The  Blais'  temper  had  often  been  her  betrayer,  because  it 
was  stronger  than  she ;  it  played  her  false  now,  as  in  other 
crises  of  her  life. 

"  He  never  meant  to  make  a  will ! "  she  said  violently,  in 
retort  to  Lady  D'Aulnoy's  protest.  "  They  may  search  till 
doomsday,  and  they  will  find  none.  And  all  this  worry  and 
delay  and  uncertainty  might  have  been  avoided  by  a  few 
words  on  a  piece  of  paper !  He  knew  what  he  was  doing 
well  enough ! " 

"  But  it  is  so  unlike  him  !  Do  consider,  Vera — he  was  a 
man  who  gripped  his  millions  as  firmly  as  most  do  their 
pence.  Was  it  likely  that  he  would  leave  them  to  the  chance 
handling  of  other  people?" 

"  Yes !  " 

"  Unless  he  had  a  superstitious  fear  of  dying  if  he  made 
a  will  ?  " 

"  No !  " 

"  Then  how  do  you  account  for  it  ?  " 

Lady  Vera's  thin  mouth  narrowed  to  an  unnatural  red  line, 
and  the  hard  eyes  fell  on  her  daughter  with  a  sinister  light 
in  them.  Patricia  was  sitting  in  unresponsive  silence,  listen- 
ing to  the  discussion  with  a  mouth  as  closely  set  but  less 
drawn  by  passion  than  her  mother's.  Something  in  the  large 
gravity  of  her  face  and  figure  maddened  Lady  Vera. 

"  He  had  his  reason,"  she  said  recklessly.  "  Oh,  yes — 
these  petty  men  with  their  narrow  puritanism  always  have 
a  reason  that  they  cling  to,  to  the  death  1  He  may  have 
thought  that  he  would  at  least  place  me  in  a  difficulty,  and 
gall  and  worry  me  with  the  delay  of  getting  the  money.  (The 
lawyers  must  advance  me — I  cannot  touch  my  share  for  a 
year  at  least!)  But  that  was  not  all  his  motive."  Her 
angry  eyes  darkened  in  their  hard  stare  at  Patricia,  and  she 
laughed  shortly.  "He  would  not  bring  himself  to  leave 
money  to  Nougat ! "  she  said,  her  voice  panting  with  sup- 
pressed rage.     "  He  always  hated  her — he  would  not  write 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  297 

the  words  '  My  daughter,  Patricia  Momington.'  Yet  he 
would  not  leave  the  money  to  me  in  preference  to  her.  He 
hated  us  both — I  don't  know  which  the  more." 

"  But  then  he  might  have  left  it  entirely  away  from  you !  " 
Lady  D'Aulnoy's  tone  faintly  echoed  the  dismay  that  such  a 
course  would  have  caused. 

"  No,"  said  Lady  Vera  sullenly.  "  He  would  not  do  that, 
either." 

Still  Patricia  did  not  speak ;  but  in  her  great  musing  eyes 
there  stole  the  dawn  of  a  horror  that  had  lain  hitherto  as  an 
embryo  in  her  heart.  As  it  rose  in  her  eyes  it  seemed  to  her 
to  take  tangible  form  in  the  presence  of  day ;  but  her  locked 
lips  did  not  quiver,  nor  did  she  look  at  the  dreadful  woman 
whose  very  voice  now  seemed  to  make  her  shudder.  She  was 
too  strong  to  cringe  outwardly  before  the  pain  of  inward 
trouble;  but  it  is  the  greatest  burden  of  such  natures  as 
Patricia's  that  they  must  face  their  disasters  with  apparent 
stoical  courage  in  inverse  proportion  as  they  suffer  in  reality. 
There  was  a  thing  coming  to  her,  a  threatened  knowledge 
that  she  must  face,  which  made  her  long  to  cry  out.  But  the 
only  physical  acknowledgment  she  made  was  to  rise  leisurely 
and  turn  from  her  mother  with  averted  face. 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  do  not  care  to  discuss  this  subject 
further,"  she  said  in  a  dead  level  tone.  "  My  father's  motives 
of  aversion  can  hardly  be  a  satisfactory  speculation — now. 
If  you  want  to  talk  of  the  purely  business  side  of  the  matter 
at  any  time  I  will  do  so  with  you,  but  if  you  attack  his  memory 
I  must  decline  to  continue  the  discussion." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  discuss,"  said  Lady  Vera,  with  a  jar- 
ring laugh.  "  As  things  stand,  you  take  two-thirds  of  the 
property,  and  I  one-third,  and  we  can  neither  of  us  touch  it 
for  a  year  at  least.  After  endless  litigation  and  letters  of 
administration,  you  will  find  yourself  the  happy  possessor  of 
about  two  millions,  my  dear,  and  I  shall  have  half  that  amount, 
if  what  the  lawyers  calculate  is  true.  I  can  only  congratulate 
you — had  Mr.  Momington  made  a  will,  it  might  have  been 
worse  for  you  ! " 

For  the  first  time  Patricia's  eyes  met  her  mother's,  and 
the  look  in  them  might  have  shamed  a  crueller  woman. 

"Worse?"  she  said  simply. 

Lady  D'Aulnoy  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  with  intense 
discomfort.     It  was  as  impossible   to   calculate  what   Vera 


298  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

would  say  as  what  Patricia  would  do.  She  gave  a  sigh  of 
actual  relief  when  a  discreet  tap  at  the  door  heralded  one  of 
the  footmen  with  a  message. 

"  Lady  Harbinger  has  called,  and  sent  me  to  ask  particu- 
larly if  Miss  Mornington  would  see  her  for  a  little  while  ?  " 

Patricia  turned  rather  wearily  from  the  late  scene  and 
followed  him  from  the  room.  She  would  see  Chiffon — but 
there  was  yet  another  cloud  in  her  memory  to  spoil  the  inter- 
view. Truly,  her  world  was  darkening  around  her,  until  it 
seemed  full  of  treachery  and  false  friends ! 

Lady  Harbinger  was  awaiting  her  in  her  own  room,  a  sober 
little  figure  in  black  and  white,  which  Patricia  noticed  half 
vaguely,  and  with  a  weary  wonder  as  to  whether  Chiffon  had 
dressed  for  the  part  of  consoler  in  complimentary  mourning ! 
But  her  mind  was  relieved  of  this  dread  at  least  by  her  friend's 
greeting. 

"  Oh,  Nougat,  I  have  been  so  longing  to  see  you  all  this 
while  !  "  Chiffon  exclaimed,  snuggling  a  soft  cheek  against 
Patricia's  taller  shoulder.  "  You  poor  dear !  "  (in  a  parenthe- 
sis).   "  How  dreadful  it  all  is !     May  I  sit  down  and  talk  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  That  is  the  most  comfortable  chair.  Chiffon, 
though  it  does  not  look  so — that  thing  called  the  'Monk's 
seat.'     Try  it." 

"  No,  because  I  want  to  sit  close  to  you — at  your  feet,  in 
fact.  Nougat,  I've  not  come  to  talk  about  you — I've  come  to 
talk  about  myself !  " 

"Ah!" 

Lady  Harbinger  had  seated  herself  as  she  desired,  on  a 
low  seat  that  enabled  her  to  lean  on  Patricia's  knee.  Her 
face  was  bent,  so  that  all  she  showed  to  her  friend  was  the 
sweep  of  her  loose  golden  hair  and  the  inimitable  line  of  her 
brows  and  lashes.  Chiffon's  eyebrows  were  piquant  and 
intuitive  and  responsive.  They  made  what  was  otherwise  a 
very  pretty  face  into  an  irresistible  one  with  personality  in 
it.  Patricia  did  not  draw  away  from  the  bright  bent  head ; 
only,  as  she  spoke  that  one  thoughtful  "  Ah !  "  she  laid  her 
left  hand  steadily  on  the  table  beside  her.  There  was  a 
little  paper-knife  there,  made  of  the  native  woods  of  Madeira, 
an  inlaid  thing  of  no  value,  with  a  carro  and  impossible 
bullocks  wrought  in  the  handle.  The  figures  had  often  struck 
her  as  looking  Egyptian.  She  took  it  up  now  in  her  strong 
fingers,  and  looked  at  it  as  if  with  fresh  interest. 


AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN.  299 

"Go  on,  Chiffon— tell  me." 

"  I  have  been  a  fool !  "  The  restless  bright  head  turned 
like  a  bird's,  the  eyes  still  remained  lowered,  resting  on 
Patricia's  black  gown,  the  voice  was  evidently  controlled  by 
effort.  "  I  have  wanted  to  tell  you  ever  since  you  came  home. 
Can  you  guess  what  I  mean  ?  " 

"I  think  I  can." 

How  well  she  knew  what  was  coming !  How  impossible 
that  she  could  tell  Chiffon  what  she  knew !  The  white  hand 
holding  the  paper-knife  gripped  it  almost  savagely.  Patricia 
had  a  feeling  that  Providence  had  played  her  many  a  sorry 
trick  of  late. 

"  There  is  someone  besides  my  husband,"  whispered  Mag- 
dalene, the  more  beautiful  for  the  flame  in  her  cheeks  that 
helped  the  admission.  "  You  know.  Nougat,  women  often 
do  the  same  thing,  and  come  to  no  harm." 

"Chiffon,  don't! If  it  were  anyone  else,  should 

I  care?  I  have  learned  to  shrug  my  shoulders  over  the 
Editha  Blais  Herons  of  this  world,  like  the  rest  of  us.  But 
for  you  to  say  that ! Does  Bobby  guess  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  so.     That  is  why  I  am  so  worried." 

There  was  a  pause  that  seemed  summed  up  in  the  sigh 
Patricia  gave.  "You  had  better  tell  me  the  whole  story," 
she  said  patiently. 

"  It  began  last  year — on  Mr.  Carberry's  yacht.  I  never 
thought  that  I  was  going  to  have  a  very  good  time,  Nougat. 
I  didn't  much  want  to  go.  But  there  were  some  pleasant 
people,  and  amongst  them — do  you  know  who  it  is  ?  " 

"  Not  till  you  tell  me,"  said  Patricia  deliberately. 

"  Caryl — Caryl  Lexiter.  Oh,  I  know  everything  that  you 
can  say !  " — with  a  little  restless  movement  of  pain.  "  He  is 
not  even  a  young  man ;  he  is  reported  to  have  belonged  to 
half  a  dozen  women  before  me — what  do  I  care?  You  can 
say  anything  you  like  !  " 

"  Indeed,  Chiffon,  I  have  nothing  to  say.  I  think  him  a 
very  attractive  man — he  might  be  fascinating."  She  looked 
at  this  fierce  version  of  Chiffon,  who  was  defending  her  own 
choice  and  the  man  of  it,  and  chose  her  words  carefully.  Life 
was  full  of  surprises  to  Nougat's  slow,  stable  nature,  and 
women  at  least  were  constant  revelations. 

"  At  any  rate,  he  proved  too  fascinating  for  me !  "  said 
Chiffon  recklessly.     "  I  had  known  him  in  town,  of  course. 


300  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

but  not  as  I  knew  him  then.     That  life  threw  us  together, 
and   we  got  intimate  with   each  other  as   you  can't  do    in 
London.     There  is  nothing  so  intoxicating  as  getting  to  know  j 
people — to  begin  to  watch  for  their  little  characteristics,  and  5 
to  recognise  them  and  love  them !  " 

The  hand  clasping  the  paper-knife  bent  and  bowed  it  un- 
consciously.    Patricia's  eyes  darkened  and  widened  with  pain. 

"  It  is  the  danger  of  Personality,"  she  said,  with  stifiF  lips. 
"Well?" 

"  There  is  no  time  to  know  people  in  London — they  have 
no  personality  there,  unless  they  are  already  too  near  and 
dear !  We  simply  seem  to  exist  mechanically.  But  it  was 
different  on  board  the  Sprite — I  lived  to  the  full  in  those 
days,  the  stolen  half-hours  right  up  in  the  bows  of  the  yacht, 
watching  the  flying  fish  and  the  dancing  sea,  and  the  sunshine, 
and  feeling  the  great  boat  dip  and  rise,  and  rejoicing  in  the 
motion  and  the  colour  and  the  fresh  salt  air — 'skies  had 
colour  and  lips  had  red,'  then  !  And  the  episode  was  so  soon 
over.  I  wondered  if  the  memory  would  be  comparatively 
short — memory  is  generally  longer  than  actual  events.  Then 
there  were  a  few  morning  walks  ashore  while  we  were  at 
Sicily,  after  poor  cross  old  Bobby  had  gone  off  to  the  towns, 
sight-seeing !  Those  were  stolen  hours — stolen  out  of  life's 
practical,  conventional  days — that  I  shall  always  remember 
with  a  laugh,  to  think  how  I  enjoyed  them,  and  a  little  sigh 
to  think  how  few  they  were !  I  did  not  do  much  harm, 
Nougat — then." 

"  And — now  ?  "  said  Patricia  at  last. 

"  Oh,  do  things  ever  stand  still  ?  I  was  frightened,  and  I 
meant  it  all  to  end  there.  He  seemed  to  be  wise  also,  for  the 
time  being,  or  else  something  kept  him  away  from  me.  I 
did  not  see  much  of  him  this  Season." 

How  strange  it  is  that  rumour  seems  so  slow  to  reach  the 
people  it  will  most  affect !  Chiffon  had  never  chanced  to 
hear  any  coupling  of  Lexiter's  name  with  Patricia  Morning- 
ton's,  apparently ;  his  constant  presence  at  the  house  in  Picca- 
dilly had  not  reached  her  amongst  other  gossip  constantly 
poured  into  her  ears.  To  be  sure,  the  Harbingers  had  not 
returned  to  town  until  the  end  of  June,  but  Patricia  could 
understand  that  Lexiter's  non-appearance  in  Chiffon's  train 

was  accounted  for  by  his  being  so  often  in  her  own 

The   paper-knife   snapped  and   fell  listlessly  to   the  table. 


AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN.  301 

Patricia  dropped  the  pieces  and  stirred  in  her  chair  for  the 

first  time. 

"  That  does  not  matter,"  she  said  almost  hastily.  "  Never 
mind  the  pause  between — you  have  taken  it  all  up  again,  is 
that  so  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  "  The  frightened  voice  was  a  whisper  now.  "  I 
was  very  foolish,  and  went  out  for  a  drive  with  him  one  day, 
and  he  persuaded  me  into  all  sorts  of  things  again.  Then 
he  grew  reckless  and  came  to  the  house  too  much,  and  Bobby 
began  to  get  suspicious,  and  last  night " 

"  Not  at  your  own  house  ?  " 

"  Yes — Bobby  was  out,  and  Caryl  only  came  round  to  have 
a  talk — really  and  truly !  But  we  forgot  the  time,  and  he 
stayed  on  and  on,  and  Bobby  met  him  walking  away  from  the 
house." 

"Whatwas  the  time?" 

"  Between  two  and  three — I  forget." 

«  Oh,  Chiffon  !  " 

"  Oh,  don't  scold  me — what's  the  use  now  ?  Yes,  I  know 
it  was  mad  of  us — and  Bobby  is  like  a  bear  with  a  sore  head 
this  morning.  He  had  been  playing  cards  at  the  Turf,  and 
then  he  went  on  with  one  of  the  members  to  his  rooms  and 
played  again,  and  lost  money.  If  he  had  only  been  early, 
it  wouldn't  have  mattered  so  much — he  would  have  found  us 
together,  but  Caryl  would  have  said  that  he  waited  to  see  him. 
Nougat,  don't  you  scold  me  too,  or  I  shall  break  down  ! " 
And  indeed  the  blue  eyes  were  distended  and  magnified  by 
the  tears  that  made  them  lovely. 

"  My  dear,  I  was  not  blaming  you — it  is  Caryl  Lexiter  I 
blame.  He  should  never  have  been  so  selfish  as  to  run  you 
into  a  compromising  position." 

"  I  know  he  is  selfish — all  men  are  !  And  the  aggravating 
part  is  that  we  hadrCt  been  doing  any  harm — that  time ! 
Well — only  just  the  ordinary  things,  you  know." 

Patricia's  head  rose  a  shade  higher  and  her  eyes  were 
blank.  "  I  suppose  you  mean  that  the  man  made  love  to 
you — the  details  don't  matter  much,  I  presume." 

"  Indeed  they  do !  It  is  just  the  details  that  always  damn 
you.  When  I  was  being  bullied  by  Bobby  this  morning,  I 
declare  I  wished  there  had  been  some  cause  for  it.  It  seemed 
so  stupid  to  be  found  out  for  nothing,  and  one  may  as  well  be 
hanged  for  a  sheep  as  a  lamb." 


302  AS  YE  HAVE  SOWN. 

"  ChiflFon,  I  wish  you  would  give  it  all  up !  I  don't  mean 
just  for  the  moment  because  Lord  Harbinger  makes  it  im- 
possible for  you  to  meet,  but  voluntarily.  Put  it  straight  out 
of  your  life — it  is  the  only  thing  that  will  really  get  rid  of  it 
for  you." 

Patricia  spoke  with  a  sudden  impulse,  her  earnest  face  bent 
over  the  one  at  her  knee,  while  she  touched  the  golden  hair 
lovingly.  There  was  not  the  least  soreness  or  resentment  in 
her  heart  now — only  the  care  for  Chiffon,  and  a  somewhat 
contemptuous  pity  for  Lexiter.  She  felt  as  if  he  stood  at  so 
great  a  distance  from  her  that  he  never  could  have  been  near. 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Chiffon,  in  a  stifled  voice.  "  If  we  did  not 
do  any  real  harm — would  it  matter  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  he  is  worth  the  risk,"  said  Patricia  slowly, 
from  the  sadness  of  her  knowledge. 

Chiffon  moved  back  from  her,  rose  to  her  feet  and  stood 
quivering  like  a  creature  at  bay. 

"  I  am  learning  a  certain  amount  of  wisdom,  and  therefore 
am  entitled  to  speak,"  she  said,  almost  impatiently.  "  You 
are  too  serious  over  things.  Nougat — for  Heaven's  sake  take 
life  more  lightly.  I  am  trying  that,  and  succeeding.  Nothing 
is  serious  but  poverty  and  ill  health.  I,  who  have  just  been 
through  even  fear,  say  this."  Then  the  momentary  hardness 
that  she  was  trying  so  hard  to  acquire,  vanished  as  quickly  as 
it  had  come.  Her  face  melted  and  quivered.  "  Nougat,  I 
can't  give  it  quite  up,"  she  said — "  I  know  I  can't  I  might  tell 
you  I  would,  but  I  should  not  do  so.  It  is  the  one  thing  that 
keeps  me  real  and  makes  life  human — yes,  even  the  danger 
and  the  terrible  disaster  that  might  follow  it.  Otherwise,  I 
am  just  the  husk  of  a  woman,  wearing  my  gowns  well,  and 
being  a  social  success  like  all  the  rest  of  us.  Am  I  to  have 
nothing  in  the  world  but  this  ?  " 

"  Your  husband — and  your  child  !  " 

"  Bobby  hores  me — oh  yes,  he  does !  What's  the  use  of 
pretty  decencies  between  you  and  me.  Nougat?  He  never 
got  within  an  ace  of  me,  never  made  me  feel  as  the  other  man 
does — yes,  and  suffer.  For  the  man  who  never  caused  a 
woman  pain  will  always  be  but  a  shadow  to  her." 

"  You  thought  you  cared  for  him — once  ?  " 

"  Thought !  Who  thinks  at  nineteen,  trained  unconsciously 
in  a  certain  line  of  inevitable  consequences?  It  is  a  matter 
of  course  that  a  girl  shall  marry,  and  marry  well.     The  neces- 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  303 

sity  is  not  forced  upon  us  at  all — no  enraged  fathers  and 
mothers  lock  us  up  in  dungeons  nowadays,  if  we  won't  make 
the  alliance  they  have  decreed.  But  they  are  far  more  subtle 
in  their  methods — they  instill  the  principle  into  us  with  our 
mother's  milk.  It  is  as  much  a  part  of  education  as  the  fact 
that  the  earth  is  round — and  as  uncontrovertible.  If  I 
'  thought '  at  all  it  was  that  I  should  like  to  be  a  Countess !  " 
Back  upon  Patricia's  memory  came  the  faint  ghost  of  the 
thrill  and  shame  she  had  felt  behind  the  curtains  in  Lord 
Harbinger's  library.  That  had  been  real — the  sense  of  pas- 
sion near  her  had  been  very  real,  or  it  had  not  swayed  her  so. 
She  felt  the  omniscience  of  Nature  over  Law,  and  faltered  to  ' 
urge  the  triviality  of  convention — not  because  she  did  not 
believe  in  it,  but  because  she  had  touched,  and  recognised, 
something  mightier.  The  earnestness  died  out  of  her  face, 
and  a  great  blank  of  despair  took  its  place.  "  Then  I  suppose 
I  cannot  help  you,"  she  said  quietly.  "I  have  no  right  to 
judge  of  what  you  say,  for  I  escaped  it  all.  You  must  go 
your  own  way,  Chiffon.  Only  God  grant  it  won't  be  to  the 
precipice  !  But  if  it  is — if  it  is,  my  dear  !  you  can  always  come 
to  me,  whatever  you  have  done  or  not  done," 

Lady  Helen's  portrait,  serene  and  self-denying,  looked  down 
on  the  two  women  locked  in  each  other's  arms,  and  with  wet 
faces  pressed  together  for  a  moment.  It  was  too  brief  an 
embrace  for  hypocrisy,  and  too  real  for  sentiment.  And 
there  was  no  further  word  between  them,  save  as  Chiffon 
turned  to  go. 

"  If  you  get  a  chance,  will  you  tell  him  he  must  not  come 
and  see  me — at  present?"  she  said.  "It  was  this  I  wanted 
to  ask  you.     You  are  sure  to  see  him  sooner  or  later." 

If  Patricia  hesitated  it  was  only  for  a  second.  "  You  have 
set  me  a  difficult  task.  Chiffon  ! ''  she  said  in  her  heart.  But 
aloud  she  answered,  "  Very  well."  Then  there  was  a  flutter 
of  skirts,  and  the  sense  of  something  bright  passing  from  the 
room,  and  Chiffon  was  gone.  The  figure  of  the  woman  left 
behind  appeared  sombre  and  heavy  by  contrast,  as  if  with  the 
sense  of  tragedy  still  to  come. 


304 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"  My  father  was  of  ancient  house — 
What  may  his  daughter  claim  ? 
Nor  lands,  nor  gold,  nor  high  estate, — 
Nor  even  yet  his  name  ! 

"  The  fiends  made  me  beautiful, 
The  devil  made  me  clever  ; 
But  they  drew  the  Bar  Sinister 
Across  my  name  for  ever." 

The  Ballad  of  the  Bar  Sinister. 

At  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  his  Grace  of  London  was 
accustomed  to  ring  for  Maunders  and  suggest  whisky  and 
soda  as  his  substitute  for  tea.  With  the  exception  of  two 
cups  of  the  latter  beverage  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
when  he  had  his  breakfast,  this  was  his  first  drink  during  the 
day,  and  he  took  it  thirstily,  swallowing  the  contents  of  the 
glass  and  not  drinking  it  by  inches,  as  did  other  men. 

It  chanced  that  to-day  he  was  alone,  Lord  Lowndes  having 
gone  out  of  town  again  for  a  flying  visit  to  a  race-meeting, 
and  most  of  his  friends  being  distributed  in  country  houses 
or  on  the  Continent.  There  was  no  one  in  the  room  with 
him  save  Fat,  when  he  rang  the  bell  as  usual  by  a  process  of 
his  own  which  consisted  in  placing  the  end  of  his  stick  against 
the  electric  button  and  keeping  it  there  until  Maunders 
arrived.  The  end  of  the  stick  being  cased  with  India  rubber 
to  prevent  it  slipping  when  the  Duke  depended  upon  it  for 
support,  the  adhesive  substance  fitted  over  and  clung  to  the 
bell  conveniently,  and  with  imperative  results.  His  move- 
ment roused  the  dog,  who  was  stretched  upon  the  rug  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  fire  (it  was  a  chilly  autumn  day),  and  he 
rose  and  stretched  himself,  thrusting  a  wet  nose  into  the 
Duke's  disengaged  hand,  which  made  his  master  start 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  305 

"Damn  the  dog!  "  muttered  the  Duke,  his  face  contracting 
with  nervous  pain.     "Get  away,  Fat!  " 

He  thrust  the  offending  animal  away  with  his  knee,  of 
which  movement  Fat  took  no  notice  at  all,  save  to  press 
closer.  An  onlooker  might  have  thought  the  repulse  brutally 
rough ;  only  Fat  could  have  told  how  carefully  checked  it 
had  been  that  it  might  not  hurt  him.  He  laid  his  well-bred 
retriever  head  on  the  Duke's  knee  and  lifted  one  of  the  short- 
ened paws  as  if  in  reproach,  whila  his  ungainly  body  wriggled 
nearer.  "  Go  away  and  lie  down  !  "  said  the  Duke  crossly, 
and  the  next  moment  his  crippled  hand  fell  gently  on  the 
dog's  wise  head  and  he  was  absently  pulling  the  silky  ears 
when  the  door  opened  and  Maunders  entered. 

'"Oh,  Maunders,  my  whisky  and  soda,  please!"  he  said 
with  charming  courtesy. 

"  Yes,  your  Grace !  "  said  Maunders,  with  as  civil  an  interest 
as  if  receiving  an  entirely  new  order.  He  looked  at  the 
turnspit-like  proportions  of  Fat  crouched  against  the  Duke's 
knee,  and  made  a  hesitating  step  forward.  "  Shall  I  take  the 
dog  away  ?  "  he  said. 

"No! — no! — let  him  stay,"  said  the  Duke,  as  if  half 
ashamed  of  the  consent — but  Fat's  eyes  had  never  doubted  it. 

Maunders  was  some  time  returning  with  the  whisky  and 
soda,  and  the  Duke  was  thirsty.  He  had  said,  "  Where  has, 
that  ass  got  to  ?  "  three  times  before  the  servant  appeared 
again  and  handed  him  the  glass. 

"  Have  you  been  out  to  buy  it,  Maunders  ?  "  said  the  Duke 
mildly.  "  Or  did  you  drink  the  first  glass  you  mixed  your- 
self?" 

"  No,  your  Grace,"  said  Maunders,  without  moving  a 
muscle.  "  But  a  lady  has  called,  and  the  footman  wanted  to 
know  if  you  would  see  her." 

"  A  lady  ?  "  said  the  Duke  with  suspicious  interest,  taking 
the  card  lying  on  the  salver  and  settling  his  glasses.  "  Is  it 
some  begging  female  with  a  tambourine,  Maunders,  or  an 
old  cat  with  tracts  to  sell  ?  " 

"  No,  your  Grace — I  think  it  is  Miss  Mornington." 

"  Oh ! "  said  the  Duke  with  a  different  inflection.  He 
looked  at  the  card,  which,  under  the  lettered  name  "Patricia 
Morningfton,"  had  a  pencilled  line,  "  Please  see  me." 

"  Will  you  see  her,  your  Grace  ?  "  said  Maunders,  standing 
in  his  old  place  at  the  Duke's  elbow. 

20 


3o6  AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

"  Yes ! "  said  the  Duke,  with  some  satisfaction  in  his  tone. 
"  Yes,  I'll  see  her.     Is  she — alone  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes."  Maunders  knew  his  master's  antipathy  to  Lady 
Vera  as  well  as  anyone  in  the  Blais'  set.  He  carried  off  the 
empty  tumbler  and  the  soda-water  bottle,  and  returned  to 
announce  Patricia,  whose  black  figure  made  a  sudden  blot 
upon  the  comfortable,  familiar  room. 

The  Duke  was  always  glad  that  he  had  not  had  that  whisky 
and  soda,  when  commenting  on  the  situation  afterwards.  He 
wondered  whether  he  would  have  come  through  the  interview 
as  well  fasting,  and  thought  not.  For  the  moment,  however, 
as  Patricia  entered,  he  merely  thought  her  appearance  a 
very  natural  one  under  the  circumstances,  for  he  had  not 
seen  her  since  Mornington's  death.  Her  mourning  made 
her  look  taller  than  ever,  and  as  she  came  straight  up 
to  his  chair  and  took  his  hand  before  he  could  attempt 
to  rise,  he  felt  as  if  she  towered  over  the  ordinary  run  of 
humanity. 

"Ah,  Nougat,  now  this  is  very  nice  of  you  to  come  and  see 
me !  "  he  said,  with  his  kindliest  smile,  and  when  the  Duke 
smiled  people  were  apt  to  feel  as  if  a  beneficent  sun  had  come 
out  for  their  especial  benefit.  "  I  am  all  alone,  and  so  bored 
with  myself !  I  should  have  gone  to  the  Club  to  see  if  there 
were  a  single  member  there  besides  myself,  but  I  am  all  aches 
and  pains  to-day,  and  I  can't  walk." 

"  Is  your  back  bad  ?  "  said  Patricia,  in  the  lower  tones  of 
her  voice  that  only  those  whom  she  loved  ever  heard.  "  I 
am  so  sorry !  Let  me  sit  here  beside  you  where  I  can  talk — 
I  have  come  to  talk  to  you,  but  if  you  are  not  well  enough 
you  must  tell  me,  and  I  will  come  another  time." 

"  No — no !  I  am  very  glad  to  listen,  at  least.  Maunders 
shall  get  you  that  low  chair  that  you  like.  Maunders !  "  but 
Maunders  had  gone,  and  Patricia  quickly  fetched  a  seat  for 
herself — not  a  chair  after  all,  but  the  broad  stool  that  Chiffon 
always  claimed  when  she  sat,  as  she  said,  at  the  feet  of 
Gamaliel  and  worshipped ! 

"  Maunders  is  an  ass,  ain't  he  ?  "  said  the  Duke  with  a  sigh. 
"  Never  here  when  I  want  him,  don't  you  know,  and  always 
doing  idiotic  things !  " 

"  I  think  he  is  the  best  servant  in  London — I  am  sure  you 
could  not  have  a  better  1 "  said  Patricia  in  kindly  contradic- 
tion. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  307 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  good  servant,"  agreed  the  Duke,  charmingly 
inconsistent.  "  He  suits  me,  too,  don't  you  know — knows 
all  my  ways.  Yes,  I  wouldn't  like  to  part  with  Maunders. 
Oh,  my  dear,  you  will  be  so  uncomfortable  on  that  stool ! 
Do  take  a  chair — I  can't  get  up  to  find  you  one  !  " 

"  Chiffon  often  sits  here  !  "  said  Patricia,  with  a  shake  of 
her  head.  "  It  is  only  my  extra  inches  that  make  you  think 
me  uncomfortable.  Please  let  me  sit  here — I  want  to  talk 
to  you  about — about  what  has  lately  happened,  and  I  can 
do  it  best  here."  There  was  hardly  a  hesitation  in  the  grave 
voice — none  at  all  in  the  eyes  she  lifted  to  his  face ;  but  there 
was  a  great  pain  in  them,  and  as  if  to  reassure  herself,  she 
rested  one  hand  on  his  knee,  just  as  Fat  had  done  his  head. 
The  dog  had  lain  down  at  last,  at  his  own  sweet  will,  and  was 
supporting  his  chin  on  the  Duke's  foot. 

"Yes,  I  am  so  sorry!"  said  the  Duke,  and  his  voice  was 
the  first  that  had  not  hurt  Patricia  a  little  even  in  its  expres- 
sion of  sympathy.  "All  through  those  first  days  after  it 
happened,  don't  you  know,  people  kept  on  coming  to  me  ancj 
saying,  '  Have  you  heard  ?  '  until  I  really  dreaded  any  more 
details.  I  detest  that  sentence — it  presupposes  that  the  news 
is  bad.  No  one  ever  said,  '  Haven't  you  heard  ?  '  before  tell- 
ing you  something  good  !  " 

"  It  was  all  bad  news,"  said  Patricia  quietly.  "  There  were 
no  extenuating  circumstances  anywhere."  Her  voice  and 
eyes  hardened ;  she  sat  up  a  little,  and  the  hand  resting  on 
the  Duke's  knee  pressed  it  unconsciously.  "  He  threw  away 
his  life  because  he  found  it  intolerable,"  she  said.  "  I  found 
that  out  by  degrees.  I  am  not  quick  at  jumping  to  conclu- 
sions. Now  " — she  spoke  deliberately,  looking  him  fairly  be- 
tween the  eyes,  her  own  beauty  frowning  a  little  in  her  inten- 
sity— "  I  want  to  know  why,  and  only  you  can  tell  me.  I  have 
come  to  you  to  tell  me,  because  I  cannot  trust  anyone  else. 
I  know  I  am  setting  you  a  hard  task,  but  you  are  the  only 
friend  I  have  made  since  Aunt  Helen's  death."  She  was 
suddenly  conscious,  as  she  made  the  statement,  of  a  voice 
with  a  croak  in  it,  and  an  irritable  face  that  for  all  its  hard 
lines  she  knew  she  could  trust.  The  Land  of  Beulah  had 
faded  so  into  the  background  of  her  mind  that  she  had  hardly 
realised  that  she  kept  a  thought  of  Gerald  Vaughan  there, 
much  less  that  she  named  him  with  the  few  she  called  friends  ; 
yet  he  occurred  to  her  now  as  the  one  other  on  whom  she 

20* 


308  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

might  have  relied  in  her  maddened  adversity,  had  Fortune 
placed  him  nearer  to  her. 

"  My  dear,  how  can  I  tell  ?  "  said  the  Duke  rather  help- 
lessly. He  laid  his  own  hand  over  the  one  on  his  knee,  and 
looked  with  pitying  eyes  at  the  tortured  face  whose  well-cut 
features  were  becoming  set  like  a  mask. 

"  At  the  time  of  his  death,  when  I  found  him,  it  merely 
seemed  to  me  a  hideous  kind  of  tragedy  that  had  resulted 
from  his  living  such  a  lonely  life,"  said  Patricia,  in  the  same 
horribly  composed  tone.  "  For  he  was  lonely ;  I  saw  it  day 
by  day,  and  felt  as  if  I  were  always  trying  to  reach  him 
through  locked  doors.  I  did  not  understand  it  at  the  time, 
but  now  I  begin  to  suspect  that  that  also  had  its  signification. 
He  did  not  mean  me  to  reach  him,  to  be  in  sympathy  with 
him.     Perhaps  he  thought  I  had  not  the  right." 

The  guarded  tone  was  no  lower,  but  the  Duke  winced  a 
little.  He  began  to  feel  the  difficulty  of  his  position,  and  the 
demand  she  was  making  on  him,  as  she  had  acknowledged  ; 
but  he  did  not  know  how  to  avoid  it,  with  that  relentless 
young  face  forcing  him  to  an  admission  that  would  be 
horrible. 

"  He  was  a  very  reserved  man — how  can  we  any  of  us 
tell  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  liked  him,  don't  you  know — thought  hiro 
a  nice  fellow.  But  though  we  often  met,  I  knew  nothing  of 
him." 

"  But  he  was  not  a  coward  to  throw  up  the  sponge  just  be- 
cause life  had  disappointed  him,"  went  on  Patricia,  pursuing 
her  own  fatal  line  of  thought  and  reasoning.  "  He  had  grown 
a  hard  man,  if  you  like,  but  not  a  weak  one.  I  know  more 
now  of  what  he  must  have  suffered — I  know  how  far  his  pride 
was  soiled,  and  how  his  faith  was  cheapened  !  "  she  said,  in 
an  ugly  whisper.  "  I  know,  too,  what  people  have  called  my 
mother  of  late  years,  and  how  she  would  have  crowned  all 
her  own  sins  by  dragging  me  in  the  mire  she  had  made.  Do 
you  know,"  rang  the  young  voice,  suddenly  raised  to  a  fury 
that  made  it  almost  as  hard  as  the  mother's  she  denounced— 
"  do  you  know  that  she  wished  me  to  marry  her  cast-off  lover 
—or  possibly  the  lover  who  had  cast  her  off,  for  he  holds  such 
ties  as  lightly  as  she— Caryl  Lexiter?  I  ask  you  if  I  am  not 
fit  for  some  better  fate  than  to  be  the  mere  convenience  of  a 
worn-out  passion !  Let  alone  the  insult,  is  not  the  physical 
degradation  monstroui  ?  " 


AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN.  309 

The  blazing  beauty  of  the  face  raised  to  his  made  the  Duke 
gasp.  She  spoke  plainly,  but  it  did  not  seem  as  if  she  spoke 
too  plainly.  He  saw  her  breast  rise  and  fall  with  the  tumult 
of  her  youth  and  vitality,  and  he  thought  of  the  sordid  sin- 
ners who  would  fain  have  used  her  as  a  shuttlecock  to  the 
battledore  of  their  vices.  He  spoke  sharply,  and  from  his 
conviction. 

"  Yes,  it  was  a  monstrous  thing — a  thing  that  should  never 
have  been  thought  of !  " 

"  Yet  she  thought  of  it — schemed  for  it — encouraged  it — 
the  woman  who  is  my  mother !  If  she  could  deliberately  plan 
such  a  thing,  she  is  capable  of  poisoning  any  honest  man's 
life,  don't  you  think,  until  he  finds  the  world  distorted,  seen 
through  his  experience  of  her?  It  was  enough  to  drive  him 
to  suicide,  but  I  do  not  think  that  the  knowledge  of  his  wife's 
infidelities  after  all  these  years  would  quite  do  that.  I  think 
that  there  was  something  more " 

There  was  a  silence  through  which  the  Duke  heard  his 
favourite  clock  tick  out  thirty  seconds,  while  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  face  this  thing  that  was  coming.  At  last,  with  a 
sigh,  he  mentally  awaited  his  inquisition  as  quietly  as  Caryl 
Lexiter  awaited  the  doctor's  possible  verdict  that  he  must 
lose  his  arm.  Cowardice,  at  least,  has  not  been  handed 
down  with  the  qualities  of  the  racehorse,  through  the  sons  of 
great  houses. 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  "  he  said  gently. 

"  I  think  that  I  was  not  his  daughter — and  he  knew  it," 
said  a  desperate  voice.  For  a  minute  Patricia's  brown  eyes 
stared  into  the  Duke's  inscrutable  face,  seeking  confirmation 
or  denial;  then,  with  a  curiously  uncertain  movement,  she 
put  her  hands  up  unsteadily  to  her  head  and  drew  the  pins 
out  of  her  hat,  tossing  it  away  from  her  on  to  a  table,  and 
pushing  the  heavy  hair  from  her  forehead,  as  if  she  would 
gain  time  by  any  trivial  means  before  she  spoke  again. 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  ?  "  said  the  Duke  gently  at  last, 
and  in  the  very  tenderness  of  his  eyes  Patricia  shuddered  to 
recognise  her  condemnation. 

"  I  think  it  from  many  little  things,"  she  said  rapidly,  turn- 
ing her  head  under  his  gaze  as  if  in  pain.  "  From  things 
that  seemed  nothing  at  the  time,  but  went  to  prove  the  whole 
black  truth  to  me.  Why  was  I  brought  up  as  I  was,  and 
why,  beyond  saving  me  from  my  mother's  violent  temper,  did 


3IO  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

he  take  no  further  interest  in  me?  I  never  saw  him  until  I 
came  home  last  year,  and  then  he  would  not  let  me  get  past 
the  barrier  he  had  set  up.  I  tried  and  tried,  and  sometimes 
I  think  I  was  succeeding,  and  that  it  was  that  as  much  as 
anything  else  that  drove  him  to — what  he  did.  He  would 
not  trust  again — certainly  not  one  of  my  lying  blood !  Yet 
we  might  at  least  have  been  friends — I  always  felt  it  between 
us.  And  he  must  have  seen  what  my  mother  intended  with 
regard  to  Caryl  Lexiter,  and  perhaps  would  not  rescue  me  a 
second  time." 

She  had  spoken  fast  and  hurriedly,  the  words  driven  from 
her  by  the  strength  and  horror  of  her  conviction.  The  Duke 
sat  silent,  his  hand  clasped  over  hers,  his  kindly  eyes  a  little 
dim  as  they  rested  on  her  in  her  feverish  youth  and  capacity 
for  pain.  He  had  seen  so  much  in  his  life,  and  grown  so 
cynical  of  his  kind  even  desiring  goodness,  that  the  ugly 
story  on  which  she  dwelt  seemed  an  old  repetition  to  him. 
He  had  known  scores  of  men  tricked  like  Giles  Mornington ; 
he  had  known,  and  did  know,  men  bearing  titles  and  inherit- 
ing a  celebrated  name  whose  fathers  had  not  held  it  before 
them — stolen  honours,  discrediting  the  long  pedigree  that 
would  solemnly  declare  them  legitimate  in  the  pages  of  Burke 
or  Debrett.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  mentally,  and  called 
it  Human  Nature,  with  an  unconscious  slur  on  Humanity. 
"  Will  you  look  for  morality  in  a  racehorse  ?  "  said  Fate  Leroy. 
But  she  would  have  set  a  higher  standard  for  men  and  women, 
educated  to  control  themselves. 

"  He  left  no  will,"  went  on  Patricia,  in  the  same  rapid  tone, 
"  Yesterday  my  mother  made  a  slip  in  her  anger,  and  con- 
fessed that  he  had  always  hated  me — I  was  one  probable 
cause  of  his  dying  intestate,  because  he  would  not  acknow- 
ledge me.  *  My  daughter,  Patricia,'  was  a  lie  that  he  would 
not  write." 

"  But  it  was  quite  possible  to  leave  you  out  of  the  will 
altogether,"  said  the  Duke,  with  quiet  reason. 

"  No,  he  was  a  just  man— he  had  had  me  brought  up  to 
expect  wealth,  to  be  accustomed  to  wealth — why  should  he 
suddenly  play  me  false  like  that?  And  he  liked  me  in  his 
heart—I  know  it  instinctively,  and  I  am  glad  and  thankful  to 
know  it.  Something  that  is  true  in  me — God  knows  whence 
it  came ! — reached  something  that  was  true  in  him,  and  he 
would  not  behave  like  an  enemy  to  me,  whatever  he  might 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  311 

have  been  to  my  mother.  As  things  are,  I  couid,  if  I  chose, 
take  two-thirds  of  the  fortune  he  left,  after  all  the  litigation 
is  over;  but  there  he  did  me  wrong — he  did  not  understand 
me — unless  he  thought  that  I  should  never  find  out,  which  is 
most  probable." 

"And  you  have  not  found  out,"  the  Duke  reminded  hei 
quietly.  "  All  this  is  the  wildest  conjecture.  You  know 
nothing,  and  can  certainly  prove  nothing." 

"  I  can  prove  it  myself,  morally — I  can  assert  the  testi 
mony  of  other  people.  I  am  going  to  prove  it  now,"  said 
Patricia  calmly,  looking  into  his  eyes. 

He  saw  what  she  meant,  and  drew  back  slightly.  "  Nougat, 
take  my  advice,  and  accept  things  as  they  stand,"  he  said 
"  My  dear,  why  should  you  worry  about  old  mistakes  for  which 
you  are  certainly  not  responsible,  and  which  happened  sc 
long  ago?  Let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead.  All  this  raking 
up  of  possible  wrong  will  do  you  no  good — it  would  only 
make  you  unhappy,  even  if  you  could  prove  it,  which  you 
can't." 

"  I  do  not  know  that — yet.  There  may  be  some  written 
statement  made  by  him.  But  it  is  enough  for  my  purpose  to 
know  morally,  at  present." 

"  And  how  are  you  going  to  do  that  ?  " 

"You  are  going  to  tell  me." 

The  Duke  leaned  back  in  his  chair  abruptly.  Over  his 
fine  face  fell  the  veil  which  all  men  of  his  training  and  tradi 
tions  have  learned  to  draw  when  faced  with  a  question  relat- 
ing to  other  men's  sins.  The  expression  went  out  of  it  en 
tirely.  He  gazed  straight  across  the  room  at  the  windows, 
as  if,  did  he  think  of  anything,  he  thought  of  the  world  out- 
side. 

"  If  you  do  not,"  said  Patricia,  with  a  desperate  warning 
in  her  low  voice,  "  I  shall  ask  elsewhere — yes,  if  I  have  to  go 
to  every  scandalmonger  in  London.  One  sometimes  pieces 
out  the  truth  through  lies.  I  have  asked  you,  the  only  friend 
I  acknowledge,  to  help  me,  and  to  tell  me  the  truth.  Am  1 
Giles  Mornington's  daughter  or  not  ?  If  you  won't  tell  me,  1 
can  ask  elsewhere.  It  was  a  story  not  confined  to  youi 
ears,  I  am  sure.  Other  people  knew.  They  will  be  less 
reticent." 

The  Duke's  eyes  came  back  from  the  window — they  seemed 
to  have  come  back  a  hundred  miles  and  a  hundred  years  tc 


312  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

look  into  hers.  There  was  no  relenting  there,  but  the  pur- 
pose in  her  face  was  not  greater  than  the  gravity  in  his. 

•'  Nougat,  dear,  don't  ask  me !  "  he  said. 

"  I  must.  I  have  a  purpose.  I  will  know.  Am  I  Giles 
Mornington's  daughter  ?  " 

"  He  believed  that  you  were  not." 

"  He  knew  that  I  was  not  1 '' 

"Well,  yes,  then — he  knew  that  you  were  not." 

Perhaps  until  then  some  faint  hope  of  uncertainty  had 
lingered  in  her  heart ;  but  she  accepted  this  truth  that  she 
had  challenged,  and  there  was  no  doubt  existing  in  her  mind. 
As  to  whom  the  man  had  been  who  had  stolen  a  daughter 
from  Giles  Momington,  she  did  not  ask  herself  the  question. 
That  at  least  was  a  dead  sin  into  whose  ugly  secret  she  need 
not  look.  But  she  knew  that  it  was  an  intimate  of  her 
mother's — one  approved  to  the  racehorse  instinct  of  the  Blais' 
breed — and  that  could  be  no  man  of  any  resemblance  to 
Momington.  All  her  fancy  that  she  had  his  blood  in  her 
veins,  and  the  sturdy  inheritance  of  ignoble  yeoman  ances- 
tors, was  torn  from  her  at  once ;  and,  ominously  enough,  she 
had  clung  to  the  idea  of  belonging  to  a  less  exalted  house 
than  that  of  Blais  until  it  had  become  a  support  to  her  very 
character,  something  to  fall  back  upon  like  a  faith.  She  had 
cherished  a  vague  connection  with  that  great  Middle  Class, 
in  whom  she  had  found  some  tiresome  monotony  and  narrow- 
ness, it  is  true,  but  traditions  and  self-culture  painfully  built 
up  through  generation  to  generation.  She  had  thought  her 
very  nature  dependent  on  their  laboured  virtues,  and  had 
honestly  gloried  in  it.  It  was  a  blow  to  her  pride,  that  would 
have  been  incomprehensible  to  the  Duke,  to  know  that  she 
gained  a  probably  bluer  blood  by  her  illegitimacy.  It  is 
certain  that  the  Duke,  though  without  acknowledgment, 
would  rather  have  owned  his  parentage  to  kings,  though 
marred  by  the  sinister  "  Fitz  "  before  his  name,  than  have 
shown  generations  of  wedded  yeoman  set  forth  in  a  family 
bible.  But  what  he  called  a  slip  of  legality,  Patricia  called 
dishonesty.  They  spoke  different  languages,  and  could  not 
understand  each  other. 

Though  they  were  mentally  at  variance,  however,  Patricia 
yearned  out  for  a  friendly  human  touch  in  her  trouble.  The 
very  loss  of  her  belief  in  her  parentage,  which  the  Duke  could 
not  comprehend,  drove  her  into  an  expression  of  despair  that 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  313 

he  could.  She  sat  looking  past  him  for  a  moment,  with  wide 
eyes  darkening  with  her  trouble ;  and  then,  as  if  a  wave  of 
resistless  force  bowed  her  beneath  it,  she  leaned  forward, 
shivering,  and  gradually  laid  her  regal  head  down  on  his 
knee,  hiding  her  face  from  him.  Even  then  Patricia's  move- 
ment was  if  anything  slow ;  she  did  not  fling  herself  down 
with  an  impulse,  as  Chiffon  might  have  done,  but  bent  before 
the  storm  of  her  own  unhappy  fate. 

The  Duke's  face  was  a  study  in  distress,  and  if  he  had  not 
been  so  kindly-hearted  he  would  also  have  been  embarrassed. 
He  laid  his  hand  a  little  hesitatingly  on  the  coils  of  Patricia's 
burnished  hair,  and  then,  as  she  did  not  shrink  from  his 
touch,  it  became  more  assured.  He  was  not  accustomed  to 
have  young  women  literally  throw  themselves  down  before 
him,  and  out  of  all  the  strange  experiences  behind  his  locked 
lips  he  found  Patricia's  abandonment  the  one  for  which  he 
had  least  precedent.  Women  had  raved  to  him,  had  wept, 
had  asked  advice  and  begged  help;  he  never  remembered 
anything  so  crushed  by  the  stress  of  life  as  the  childish  atti- 
tude and  the  hidden  face. 

"  Nougat,  dear !  "  he  remonstrated  huskily.  "  I'm  so  sorry 
for  you !  Don't  cry !  "  His  fingers  unconsciously  caressed 
the  beautiful  waves  of  hair,  and  pushed  it  away  from  the  girl's 
averted  face.  He  always  remembered  afterwards  the  bur- 
nished light  on  the  thick  coils,  and  the  way  that  the  little 
reddish  curls  grew  in  the  nape  of  her  full  white  neck,  and 
he  declared  that  Patricia  had  the  most  beautiful  hair  of  any 
woman  he  ever  met.  She  did  not  answer  in  words ;  only 
after  a  minute  she  groped  blindly  for  his  other  hand  and  laid 
her  face  against  it.  He  felt  the  hot  tears  at  last,  and  in  spite 
of  his  protest  he  let  her  cry.  In  the  Duke's  philosophy 
women  were  always  able  to  cry,  and  were  happier  so  to  weep 
away  their  grief.  He  had  faced  worse  troubles  than  Patricia's 
with  the  silence  of  a  man. 

It  seemed  a  long  time  before  either  of  those  quiet  figures 
stirred,  save  for  the  Duke's  hand  quietly  smoothing  and  play- 
ing with  the  girl's  rich  hair.  Fat,  with  the  instinct  of 
sympathetic  animals,  dragged  himself  a  little  closer  to  the 
human  being  in  trouble,  and  laid  a  huge,  grotesque  paw  upon 
her  gown.  Now  and  then  his  master  sighed  heavily,  and  once 
it  seemed  that  someone  sobbed.  At  last  Patricia  raised  her- 
self quietly,  lifted  the  hand  against  which  her  face  had  rested 


314  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

and  kissed  it  in  mute  thanks.  When  the  Duke  saw  her  face 
it  was  hardly  tear-stained,  but  something  seemed  to  have  gone 
out  of  it — a  look  of  youth  and  readiness  for  life  that  had  made 
it  very  vital.  The  beauty  was  harder,  and  there  was  an 
added  purpose  that  took  the  place  of  the  former  vitality. 

"  Don't  get  up,  dear !  "  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  Sit  still 
and  recover." 

"  I  am  quite  recovered  now,  thanks,"  she  answered  steadily. 

"You  have  been  very  good  to  me "     She  stooped 

and  gently  disengaged  herself  from  Fat's  heavy  paw,  holding 
it  a  minute  in  her  hand,  as  if  the  tender  hairy  thing 
were  more  welcome  than  a  human  touch,  just  now.  She 
knew  quite  well  why  she  had  found  the  humble  head  so 
close  to  her,  and  the  dog's  anxious  eyes  looking  into  her 
face. 

"  I ! "  said  the  Duke.  "  I  wish  I  could  have  done  some 
thing.     I  only  hurt  you." 

"  No — you  did  just  what  I  asked,  just  what  no  one  else 
would  do  for  me.     You  told  me  the  truth.     I  am  going- 
back,  now.     I  want  to  think." 

She  turned  quite  composedly  to  the  table  where  she  had 
flung  her  hat,  and  put  it  on,  talking  collectedly  even  while 
she  was  arranging  and  pinning  it.  "  I  want  you  to  under- 
stand that  this  has  been  a  great  blow  to  me,  and  something 
of  a  shock,  though  I  suspected  it.  I  should  not  have — given 
way  otherwise;  and  I  am  not  broken  down  now — you  will 
see.  I  had  built  so  much  on  being  his  daughter !  You  do 
not  understand,  but  you  see  he  was  the  one  person  I  respected 
in  my  present  life  !  " 

"  He  was  a  nice  fellow,"  said  the  Duke  cordially.  "  I  wish 
I  had  known  him  better — a  thoroughly  nice  fellow." 

Patricia's  lips  set  a  little  closer,  but  they  did  not  quiver 
She  was  standing  with  her  back  almost  to  the  Duke,  but 
suddenly  she  turned  round  on  him,  a  momentary  flame  of 
passion  in  her  hardened  face. 

"  How  awful  it  is  that  women  can  do  these  things !  "  she 
said  in  a  shaken  voice. 

"  My  dear,  it  is  only  human  nature !  "  said  the  Duke,  with 
his  gentle  hopeless  cynicism. 

"  Yes,  but  to  spoil  a  man's  life — to  take  away  his  faith  and 
hope  in  men  and  women — is  that  human  nature?  And  if  it 
is  so,  is  it  excusable  on  that  score?    I  do  not  deny  that  we 


-^.^jAS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  315 

may  be  lower  than  the  beasts  which  perish,  but  I  cannot  take 
it  complaisantly." 

The  Duke  sighed.  "  It's  such  a  long  time  ago,  Nougat, 
and  you  are  not  responsible,"  he  said.  "Why  don't  you  try 
to  forget  it?  No  one  thinks  about  it  now,  and  it  is  by  no 
means  a  singular  instance,  remember !  " 

"  No — to  our  disgrace  !  "  she  flashed  at  him.  "  No  one 
thinks  about  it  now,  you  say — but  everyone  must  have  known 
at  the  time,  all  her  world  at  least.  And  yet  there  was  no 
punishment  for  the  woman,  who  just  lived  it  down,  while  all 
the  blow  fell  upon  the  husband,  who  was  a  mere  fence  to 
screen  her !  Such  things  are  too  common  to  awake  more  than 
a  passing  chatter,  I  suppose." 

"  You  do  not  know  what  the  punishment  may  have  been,  or 
how  she  suffered,"  said  the  Duke  quietly.  "  Usually  the 
poor  woman  is  the  one  to  bear  all  the  blame,  while  the  men 
go  scot  free.  I  am  rather  glad,  as  a  rule,  if  I  hear  of  a 
woman  escaping  justice  !  Anyhow,  we  are  not  the  judges 
Don't  look  at  me  with  that  policeman's  face,"  he  added, 
smiling.     "  The  world  is  too  old  for  you  to  set  it  to  rights." 

"  One  can  enter  one's  little  protest,  anyhow,"  said  Patricia 
more  slowly.  "  Otherwise,  if  no  one  protested,  licence  would 
have  no  bounds  at  all.  But  I  will  not  worry  you  with  any 
more  of  my  theories — we  look  at  life  from  a  different  stand- 
point. You  have  been  very  good  to  me,"  she. added  simply, 
with  her  usual  manner.  "  More  good  than  you  know,  per- 
haps.    Let  me  come  and  see  you  again." 

"  My  dear,  you  are  always  welcome  to  come  when  I  am  well 
enough  to  see  anybody !  "  said  the  Duke  kindly.  He  took 
the  hand  she  gave  him,  and  laid  the  other  free  one  on  her 
shoulder  as  she  bent  a  little  above  his  chair.  The  kindly 
eyes  met  hers  with  a  tenderness  that  had  gone  to  more 
women's  hearts  than  he  knew  or  suspected.  "  Poor  little 
Nougat ! "  was  all  he  said. 

The  hard  look  melted  out  of  Patricia's  face  for  a  moment. 
Her  eyes  were  warm  and  gentle,  and  had  that  characteristic 
expression  of  hers  that  seemed  as  if  they  wanted  to  help.  It 
was  still  in  them  when  she  went  away.  Fat  accompanying  her 
across  the  room  as  if  he  had  half  a  mind  to  go  too  and  take 
care  of  her ;  but  by  the  time  she  re-entered  her  own  rooms  in 
the  house  that  had  been  Giles  Mornington's  her  face  had 
altered  again  and  the  new  purpose  had  come  back. 


3i6  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

When  the  Duke  was  left  alone,  and  even  the  sound  )f 
Patricia's  steps  had  died  away,  he  got  out  of  his  chair  with 
his  usual  difficulty,  and  stood  upright  for  a  moment  bearing 
the  pain  that  a  first  movement  always  gave  him.  Then,  with 
the  lines  still  between  his  brows,  he  walked  slowly  to  the  bell 
and  rang  it.  When  Maunders  appeared  his  master  was  still 
standing,  as  if  buried  in  thought,  by  the  mantelpiece. 

"  Oh,  Maunders,"  he  said  without  turning  round,  "get  me 
another  whisky  and  soda — a  strong  one  this  time.  Good 
God !  "  hft  added  under  his  breath,  " I  want  it!  " 


3T7 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

••  From  a  single  glance  at  your  whites  and  reds 
Tlie  men  have  much  to  say, 
And  respectable  women  turn  their  heads 
And  look  the  other  way." 

Bloom  de  Ninon. 

Is  Miss  Mornington  coming  to  dinner?" 

"  No,  my  lady,  Miss  Mornington  begs  you  will  excuse  her. 
She  is  dining  in  her  own  rooms." 

Lady  Vera  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Then  you  and  I  are 
iete-d-tete,  Aimee,"  she  said.  "  I  wish  I  had  thought  of  it, 
and  I  would  have  asked  Car  to  come  in  and  enliven  us.  One 
never  knows,  however,  whether  Nougat  will  choose  to  be  the 
death's  head  at  the  feast,  or  will  entirely  absent  herself. 
What  I  am  going  to  do  when  you  leave  me,  I  don't  know !  " 

"  I  think  Nougat  is  looking  very  ill,"  said  Lady  D'Aulnoy, 
with  unusual  plainness.  "  And  if  she  had  to  have  a  thorough 
change,  I  should  not  be  at  all  surprised.  She  is  not  at  all 
herself — I  have  noticed  it  ever  since — I  mean  for  days,"  she 
corrected  herself,  avoiding  the  name  of  Death  as  people 
always  do  instinctively  avoid  it  when  it  has  come  near  to  them. 

"  I  hope  when  she  comes  back  to  herself  it  will  be  a 
pleasanter  one  to  live  with  than  usual,  then !  "  Lady  Vera 
retorted.  "  Helen  Chilcote  brought  her  up  to  be  intensely 
selfish."  It  was  noticeable  that  Lady  Vera  always  accused 
others  of  the  weaknesses  which  a  cynical  public  had  observed 
most  in  herself.  She  described  her  maid  as  inconsiderate 
and  indifferent  with  regard  to  herself,  her  daughter  as  selfish, 
her  friends  as  unscrupulous.  Lady  D'Aulnoy's  expression 
was  faintly  amused,  but  she  shrugged  her  shoulders.  Ex- 
perience had  taught  her  the  futility  of  arguing  with  Vera 
Mornington. 


3i8  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

"I  am  sorry  you  and  Nougat  do  not  get  on,"  was  all  she 
said. 

"  Get  on !  I  am  wondering  how  we  are  to  live  together, 
if  it  comes  to  that.  I  suppose  she  will  marry.  I  shall  be 
thankful  to  give  her  my  blessing  and  wash  my  hands  of  her." 

There  was  no  reticence  in  Lady  Vera.  She  hated  with  the 
abandonment  of  all  her  uncurbed  instincts,  and  it  was 
elementary  hatred  untempered  by  any  judgment.  Further- 
more, she  expressed  herself  as  crudely  as  she  felt.  The 
crisis  of  Mornington's  death  had  somewhat  shattered  the 
terms  of  armed  peace  between  her  and  her  daughter,  and  she 
spoke  out  of  the  fury  of  her  heart. 

Patricia  dined  in  her  room  without  seeing  her  mother,  and 
she  felt  that  it  was  well  for  them  to  be  apart  at  present.  She 
had  come  straight  in  from  her  interview  with  the  Duke,  and 
had  ordered  some  food  from  the  routine  of  habit.  But  she 
was  dully  surprised  to  find  that  when  it  came  she  could  not 
eat  it,  and  she  sent  the  tray  away,  and  gave  orders  that  she 
would  not  be  disturbed  to-night — her  maid  could  go  to  bed 
when  she  pleased.  Then  she  went  into  her  favourite  room 
— the  room  with  the  books  and  pictures — and  tried  to  think. 

What  the  Duke  had  told  her  had  only  confirmed  her  own 
conviction ;  and  yet  the  bald  statement  was  so  much  worse 
than  the  thing  suspected  that  it  had  hit  her  like  a  bolt  from 
the  blue.  Her  pride  was  cut  to  the  quick,  and  she  felt  her- 
self a  pariah  even  in  a  world  she  had  fancied  she  despised. 
Worse  still,  she  had  no  right  to  that  purer  strain  on  which  she 
had  based  some  of  her  belief  in  herself.  She  came  of  a  bad 
stock — Blais'  blood  in  her  veins,  Blais'  passions  in  her  nature ; 
and  instead  of  a  counter  influence,  there  must  surely  be  a 
darker  blot  yet,  for  she  was  the  child  of  some  poor  sexual 
impulse,  only  strong  in  the  self-indulgence  which  risked  a 
broken  law.  In  the  first  moments  of  her  bitter  degradation 
she  felt  as  if  she  could  not  even  trust  herself,  with  such  an 
inheritance.  Surely  her  birth  was  bad  in  every  respect,  her 
very  blood  tainted — she,  Patricia  Momington,  who  had  held 
her  head  so  high,  and  thought  silent  scorn  of  the  weak  men 
and  w  men  round  her,  the  Children  of  this  World  who  were 
not  even  wise  in  their  generation  ! 

For  hours  the  brooding  figure  hardly  changed  its  position, 
as  Patricia  sat  there  driving  her  reckless  thoughts  back  into 
the  past  aod  on  into  the  future.     Tie  silvex  chimes  on  the 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  319 

mantelpiece  struck  ten — eleven — midnight — and  still  the 
beautiful,  furious  face  was  clouded  with  dangerous  thought, 
until  even  thought  grew  intolerable  with  inaction,  and  she 
rose  and  began  to  pace  slowly  up  and  down — up  and  down — 
her  loose  silks  trailing  behind  her,  each  hand  clenched  against 
her  side.  Beware  now !  for  the  Blais'  passions  in  her  nature 
were  indeed  running  riot.  The  loose  rein  of  former  genera- 
tions was  giving  her  present  mood  a  chance  to  get  away  with 
her,  and  made  her  for  the  time  being  a  less  governed  woman 
than  even  Lady  Vera.  She  had  never  felt  this  surge  of  pas- 
sion in  all  her  trained  and  guarded  life,  and  never  realised 
the  dreadful  force  that  lurked  within  herself.  It  frightened 
her  even  at  its  maddest,  and  drove  her  to  and  fro,  as  if  at  the 
mercy  of  some  strong  wind,  her  feet  treading  monotonously 
up  and  down  the  room  until  long  past  midnight,  her  eyes  full 
of  stormy  anger  and  unchecked  rage  at  fortune.  What  had 
she  done  that  she  should  suffer  so  for  the  criminal  weakness 
of  one  man  and  woman?  A  hideous  line  from  a  stern  creed 
beat  back  upon  her  memory,  to  make  her  doubt  that  love  was 
ever  in  the  world,  or  mercy  possible  combined  with  power : 

"  For  I  the  Lord  thy  God  am  a  jealous  God,  and  visit  the 
sins  of  the  fathers  upon  the  children  unto  the  third  and  fourth 
generation  of  them  that  hate  Me."  She  had  sprung  of  gene- 
rations that  must  have  hated  God,  and  had  certainly  served 
Satan.  She  had  no  part  and  lot  with  the  elect — she  was 
illegitimate.  The  old  scorn  of  the  Baton  Sinister  that  lurks 
in  all  civilised  races  bred  under  the  law,  made  her  cringe 
before  the  world ;  for  this  also  was  in  her  blood,  an  inherited 
instinct  of  shame  at  the  blot  on  the  'scutcheon.  Up  and 
down — up  and  down — went  the  unwearied  feet,  seeking  to 
tread  down  sorrow  and  to  outpace  despair.  And  darker 
thoughts  than  she  could  put  into  words  kept  at  her  side 
through  the  ghastly  vigil. 

Up  on  the  wall,  above  the  head  of  the  restless  living 
woman,  hung  the  portrait  of  Lady  Helen,  the  self-denying 
face  and  the  calm  pride  that  is  proud  for  good  reason. 
Patricia  never  raised  her  face — the  beautiful  Blais'  face  with 
its  triumphant  passions — but  the  contrast  between  that  pic- 
tured control  and  the  real  creature  who  was  beyond  it  just 
now,  was  none  the  less  striking.  She  passed  below  Lady 
Helen  without  heeding  her,  and  with  eyes  and  ears  blind  and 
deaf  to  anything  but  the  tumult  of  her  own  mind     If  anyone 


320  AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

had  come  upon  her  then — even  the  terrible  mother  who  had 
given  her  birth — they  must  have  fled  affrighted. 

Two  o'clock — three.  Below  the  great  gaunt  windows  over 
looking  Piccadilly  the  stream  of  life  faltered  and  flowed  fit- 
fully, until  it  finally  died  away  into  an  empty  silence.  The 
lights  across  the  Park  waxed  dim,  even  the  galaxy  of  Earth- 
stars  that  meant  Buckingham  Palace  seeming  to  fade  in  the 
hour  when  life  is  lowest.  Patricia  wandered  out  of  her  course, 
over  to  the  window,  and  looked  out.  The  leaves  were  almost 
all  off  the  trees  in  the  Park,  for  the  summer  had  been  a  dry 
one,  and  far  and  far  across  the  black  spaces  she  saw  lamp 
after  lamp  guiding  her  to  the  Mall,  and  clumped  together  to 
show  where  stood  the  Palace  of  the  King  ....  did  he 
sleep  now,  reduced  back  to  the  mere  elements  of  humanity, 
a  man  and  not  a  king,  like  the  meanest  of  his  subjects  ?  She 
tried  to  distract  her  thoughts,  to  force  them  to  something 
which  was  not  the  old  maddening  reiteration  of  appeal  against 

the    cruelty    of    her    sentence Why?  why?  why? 

Had  God  no  sense  of  justice  that  he  let  men  and  women  sin 
for  countless  generations,  and  only  visited  His  wrath  upon 
their  descendants  ?  What  had  she  done  that  she  must  suffer 
so  ?  And  that  poor  man — the  man  who  might  have  been  her 
father ! — what  had  he  done  that  a  worthless  woman  should 
befool  him  and  wreck  his  life  ?  "  It  is  not  a  singular  case  !  " 
said  the  Duke  of  London,  with  the  acquired  cynicism  of  his 
class  and  training.  That  was  all  the  extenuation  that  could 
be  urged — a  fresh  accusation  of  sin  on  others  of  this  race, 
"  the  third  and  fourth  generation  of  them  that  hate  Me !  " 

The  lumbering,  solemn  omnibuses  were  running  no  longer ; 
a  night  hansom  flashed  by,  its  occupant  invisible  to  Patricia's 
dry  hot  eyes,  but  she  guessed  at  some  man  returning  from  a 

card-party,  or  worse Cards  ruin  men  themselves, 

but  other  vices  may  drag  dowi  women,  and  some  unborn 
Thing  that  must  suffer  in  its  turn,  to  the  third  and  fourth 
generation.     Oh,   why?  why?  why? 

The  sleepless  woman,  with  the  beautiful  face  which  is  the 
Blais'  boast,  stood  at  her  vigil,  and  felt  the  misused  purpose 
of  life  and  the  relentless  fight  of  law  and  nature— soul  and 
body.  Such  hours  are  like  a  burning  fiery  furnace  to  the 
naked  soul.  Below,  in  the  open  roadway,  all  sorts  of  con- 
ditions of  men  might  pass  by.  but  she  heeded  them  not; 
while  for  her,  as  for  them,  one  night  out  of  all  Time  was 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  321 

folded  up  into  silence,  with  its  incidents  and  experiences  that 
are  never  quite  the  same  as  any  other  night  in  all  Time. 
Beyond,  across  the  black  Park,  a  cluster  of  lights  showed 
where  the  King  slept,  only  a  man,  and  like  the  humblest  of 
his  subjects. 


Lady  Vera  was  not  often  troubled  with  interviews  with  her 
daughter  of  late.  Indeed,  their  intercourse  was  of  the  slight- 
est, and  the  antagonism  between  them  had  become  almost 
avowed.  She  was  really  surprised  when  Patricia  came  com- 
posedly into  her  sanctum  the  next  morning  and  suggested 
that  they  should  discuss  certain  business,  but  her  sharp  glance 
at  the  younger  woman  did  not  enlighten  her.  Patricia  was 
never  highly  coloured,  but  she  seemed  at  the  moment  all  the 
whiter  for  her  exterme  composure  of  manner.  Her  face 
looked  more  mature,  too.  "  She  has  the  atmosphere  of  a 
married  woman  now,"  thought  her  mother  shrewdly.  "At 
this  rate  she  will  soon  look  as  old  as  I."  For  she  had  some 
illusions  left  her  yet  with  regard  to  herself,  and  one  was  that 
she  ranked  with  women  of  thirty. 

"  It  is  an  unpleasant  necessity  that  we  must  talk  over  our 
position  sometimes,"  said  Patricia,  with  grave  directness. 
"  Of  course,  it  is  always  disagreeable — particularly  among 
relations.     Still  we  need  not  disagree." 

Lady  Vera  stared.  "  There  is  no  question  of  disagreeing, 
as  far  as  I  can  see,"  she  said  bluntly.  "  If  you  refer  to  the 
way  in  which  the  money  is  divided  between  us,  the  lawyers 
will  decide  all  that.  I  take  one-third  and  you  take  two,  and 
we  can't  touch  a  penny  for  a  year,  and  there  will  be  endless 
worry  and  taking  out  of  letters  of  administration  even  then. 
There  is  nothing  so  selfish  as  a  man  who  dies  intestate  and  a 
suicide." 

Patricia  did  not  wince  from  the  ugly  word,  or  show  any 
consciousness  of  having  heard  it.  "  You  have  not  discovered 
anything  further,  then?"  she  said.  "No  papers  of  instruc- 
tions or  memorandum  of  what  he  wanted  done  ?  " 

"  Good  Heavens !  haven't  we  been  hunting  through  papers 
for  a  week,  both  here  and  at  Rye?  "  said  Lady  Vera,  in  tones 
that  suggested  exasperation.  "  Found  anything !  No,  not 
the  slightest  clue,  of  course.     He  died  intestate." 

Patricia  raised  her  eyes  and  looked  at  her  mother  delibe- 

21 


322  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

rately.     "  Under  the  circumstances,  then,  I  do  not  inherit  at 
all,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  Under  what  circumstances  ?  "  Lady  Vera's  movement  as 
she  swung  round  was  so  sudden  that  it  was  like  panic.  "  You 
inherit  about  two  millions — I  do  not  know  what  else  you  want. 
I  should  describe  you  as  singularly  fortunate,  myself.  I  am 
far  worse  off  than  many  widows  of  rich  men." 

There  was  a  momentary  pause,  like  the  hush  before 
thunder.     Then  Patricia  spoke. 

"  I  will  not  inherit  any  of  Mr.  Momington's  money,  because 
both  legally  and  morally  I  cannot." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  The  paint  and  powder  could  not 
disguise  the  wicked  red  blood  scorching  Vera  Momington's 
face,  like  the  reflection  of  a  shameful  Hell  into  which  she  had 
looked  once,  years  ago.  Her  eyes  were  red,  too,  like  those 
of  certain  wild  animals  when  they  get  angry,  and  they  dared 
the  truth  from  Patricia's  lips.  But  if  she  were  dangerous  in 
her  rising  passion,  she  was  far  less  dangerous  than  the  still, 
pale  woman  who  was  absolutely  without  fear  or  remorse,  and 
who  was  going  to  speak,  though  god  or  devil  or  man  should 
forbid  her. 

"  You  know — you  almost  put  into  words  the  other  day,  the 
reason  that  Giles  Mornington  made  no  will.  He  would  not 
acknowledge  me  as  his  daughter — he  knew  that  I  was  not. 
You  know  it  too,  and  at  last  I  know  it  also." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

The  panting,  sobbing  whisper  of  a  creature  at  bay  is  not 
good  to  hear ;  but  Patricia  had  neither  compassion  nor  hesi- 
tation, even  for  a  second.  She  looked  at  the  woman  who 
would  almost  have  killed  her  to  escape  her  own  fear,  and  who 
would  fight  to  the  death  the  instant  she  knew  her  own  ground. 

"  I  have  been  gradually  coming  to  the  knowledge  for  some 
time.  Many  people  in  London  know  it,  it  seems,  and  I  have 
had  it  confirmed  by  one  of  them.  But  that  is  not  all.  I  am 
aware  that  one  must  have  certain  proofs.  If  you  do  not  help 
me  to  arrange  the  matter  quietly,  I  shall  set  to  work  to  find 
them.  It  is  five  and  twenty  years  ago,  but  I  have  no  doubt 
that  I  shall  not  lack  for  witnesses." 

Then  Lady  Vera  suddenly  laughed,  though  the  sound 
grated  like  a  false  note.  "You  are  mad  to  insult  me  like 
this ! "  she  said  breathlessly.  "  Do  you  know  what  you  are 
saving?     That  you  want  to  prove  your  own  illegitimacy!" 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  323 

"  Not  prove  it,  save  to  the  world  at  large,"  said  Patricia 
coolly,  "  for  I  know  it  already,  as  did  that  poor  man  who  would 
not  lie  about  me.  It  is  only  fair  to  give  you  warning  that  I 
shall  not  flinch  even  from  such  a  task,  if  you  drive  me  to  it." 

"  You  are  mad  !  " 

"  Not  at  all.     Look  at  me  and  see  !  " 

She  raised  her  great  burning  eyes  and  looked  at  the  lesser 
woman,  and  for  all  the  unbridled  rage  in  herself,  Vera  Morn- 
ington  felt  suddenly  impotent  against  this  more  implacable 
anger.  She  saw  that  Patricia  would  carry  out  her  threat, 
monstrous  though  it  was ;  and  she  saw  also  where  her  power 
lay,  for  though  she  might  encounter  a  difficulty  on  which  she 
had  not  counted,  once  she  began  to  unravel  that  ugly  secret 
of  the  past  she  would  inevitably  drag  others  to  light,  and  the 
whole  scandal  was  hideously  inconceivable. 

"  Nougat !  "  gasped  the  maddened  woman.  "  Don't  you 
realise  that  you  can't?     That — that  I  am  your  mother?" 

Then  the  rage  in  the  girl  surged  up  almost  to  the  height  of 
last  night,  when,  in  her  terrible  vigil,  inherited  passions  and 
lawless  instincts  had  made  a  helpless  thing  of  her  among  them, 
and  she  had  been  a  horror  even  to  herself.  "  The  old  plea !  " 
she  said  with  a  bitter  sneer.  "  Or  rather,  a  variation  of  that 
older  one  that  urges  on  a  man  you  have  wronged  that  you  are 
his  wife — bone  of  his  bone  and  flesh  of  his  flesh,  he  is  drag- 
ging his  own  name  in  the  dirt  in  dragging  yours !  For  the 
sake  of  his  name  he  must  forbear  to  treat  you  as  you  deserve. 
You  calculate  on  it,  you  women  who  do  such  things.  But 
I  " — she  sprang  full  height,  glowing  with  a  splendid  rage  and 
indignation — "  I  have  no  such  handicap,  you  will  find  !  For 
once  you  will  meet  your  match,  a  woman  as  unscrupulous  as 
yourself  in  her  purpose,  and  as  fearless  of  public  opinion  as 
you  are  of  moral  obligation.  The  fact  that  you  are  my  mother 
is  my  disgrace,  perhaps,  but  certainly  no  deterrent  to  my 
proving  our  joint  shame  ! " 

The  tigress  in  Lady  Vera  had  never  been  more  incarnate 
than  now,  as,  with  cruel  lips  drawn  back  from  her  teeth,  she 
stood  as  if  snarling  helplessly  at  a  stronger  adversary.  Her 
long  tightly-laced  body  writhed  a  little,  as  the  beast's  might  in 
lashing  its  tail,  and  her  voice  was  the  frighting  cry  of  some 
inhuman  thing. 

"  You  brute  !  You  damned  fool !  "  she  cried,  beside  herself 
with  the  unexpected  disaster  that  seemed  to  have  overtaken 

21* 


324  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

her.  "  You  have  no  sense  of  decency — you  are  only  fit  for  a 
lunatic  asylum,  or  a  penitentiary.  If  you  try  to  do  what  you 
say,  I  will  have  you  shut  up  as  out  of  your  mind — do  you 
hear?  do  you  hear?  do  you  hear?  " 

The  hot  blood  seemed  to  die  down  in  Patricia's  body  be- 
fore the  senseless  scream,  but  a  coldness  more  invincible  still 
took  its  place.  She  looked  straight  at  the  quivering,  passion- 
swayed  woman  before  her  with  open  contempt,  and  there 
was  absolute  indifference  in  her  voice  as  she  answered. 

"  I  should  not  advise  your  doing  anything  so  foolish.  You 
would  certainly  fail,  and  that  would  be  unpleasant  for  you  in 
the  results !  Understand  me,  I  do  not  desire  to  blazon  your 
sins  unnecessarily.  If  you  will  kindly  accept  the  inevitable, 
and  not  try  to  establish  my  claim  to  your  husband's  name  by 
forcing  his  fortune  on  me,  I  will  not  move  further  in  the 
matter.  If  you  do  try  to  make  me  acknowledge  myself  his 
daughter  by  a  tacit  lie,  I  shall  explain  to  the  world — your 
world — what  I  am  and  what  you  are.  You  can  take  your 
choice.     That  is  all  I  have  to  say." 

She  turned,  without  another  look  or  word,  and  walked  to 
the  door.     There  she  paused  for  a  minute  and  looked  back. 

"  I  have  my  godmother's  money,  which  was  left  actually  to 
me,"  she  said  monotonously.  "  I  think  it  is  impossible  for 
us  to  live  in  the  same  house  after  what  has  passed,  and  I  shall 
arrange  about  going  elsewhere  as  soon  as  possible.  I  have 
eight  hundred  a  year  to  live  on,  so  your  conscience,  even  at 
this  late  hour,  need  not  be  uneasy  about  me.  There  is 
another  bitter  wrong  that  you  would  willingly  have  done  me, 
but  I  need  not  speak  of  that  now.  The  less  that  is  said 
between  us  the  better." 

She  went  out  and  closed  the  door  gently,  but  the  distorted 
face  of  the  woman  she  left  in  the  room  was  better  to  see  than 
her  own  as  she  walked  away  from  it.  She  had  a  nature  to 
which  all  things  came  slowly,  even  revenge  ;  but  once  arrived 
to  her  they  did  not  pass,  but  took  root  and  bore  blossom,  fruit, 
and  seed. 


325 


CHAPTER  XXllI. 

"  The  Ideal  went  through  the  World  of  an  Hour, 
Gathering  flowers  of  a  million  brains  ; 
And  some  were  sown  of  beautiful  things, 
But  most  of  sorrows  and  pains." 

Realm:  of  Fancy. 

There  came  a  letter  to  Ashingham  a  week  or  so  after  the 
Leroys'  departure,  which  touched  a  secret  mood  of  Vaughan's 
and  drew  an  answer  from  him.  He  was  not  a  particularly 
good  or  fluent  correspondent,  though  he  fancied  that  he  was 
both,  and  his  love  of  argument  met  with  a  restraint  on  paper 
that  fretted  his  brain.  Fate  wrote  of  herself,  like  all  strong 
personalities,  who,  whether  they  describe  a  sunset  or  a 
pudding,  colour  and  flavour  it  by  their  own  taste,  and  quite 
irrespective  of  Natural  Law. 

"  I  am  mistress  of  a  restful  silence,"  was  the  first  sentence 
in  the  letter.  "  Eldred  has  fallen  most  beautifully  asleep, 
and  I  am  in  want  of  a  friend  to  talk  to.  Do  you  notice 
that  a  good  face  is  most  lovable  when  asleep?  All  the 
stains  of  day,  that  are  only  passing  clouds  on  them,  seem 
swept  away  and  leave  the  original  nature  like  a  pure 
sky."  (To  her  heart  she  also  noted  the  little  lock  of 
tossed  hair  that  made  him  so  boyish — the  flush  on  his  face, 
and  the  pathetic  helplessness  which  makes  a  child  of  a 
sleeping  man,  and  proportionately  dear  to  woman.  But 
being  no  fool  she  kept  her  life-portrait  to  herself,  and 
generalised  to  the  other  man.  Vaughan  might  also  be  in- 
cluded in  the  lovableness  of  sleep — if  his  face  could  be  called 
good.) 

"  It  takes  me  back  to  his  illness  again,  when  I  used  to  feel 
quite  sure  that  it  was  the  last  time  I  should  watch  by  him, 
because  I  was  so  afraid  of  being  taken  unawares,  and  the 
years  ahead  were  so  appalling.     For  I  know  myself — I  should 


326  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

never  have  taken  up  my  life  and  worked  for  others  as  I  ought. 
The  years  would  slip  by  with  so  little  done,  and  only  my 
jewel  of  happiness  experienced  to  bear  me  up." 

(He  thought  of  that  possible  future  on  which  he  had  turned 
his  back,  and  winced  even  now  with  the  wrench  of  the  effort. 
They  had  seen  the  years  ahead  as  differently  as  if  they  were 
complete  strangers  to  each  other.     He  was  glad  of  that  now.) 

"  I  depended  very  much  on  you  to  help  me  through,  you 
know^I  am  a  very  dependent  person.  It  is  curious,  is  it 
not,  how  we  take  the  benefits  of  a  friend  for  granted  and  do 
not  even  try  to  express  ourselves  as  grateful !  Just  because 
we  feel  that  they  give  us  what  no  one  else  could  give,  we 
seem  to  think  that  reward  would  be  superfluous — as  perhaps 
it  would.     And  so  I  never  even  thanked  you 

"  I  am  sitting  at  the  window,  rejoicing  in  a  wide  sweep  of 
cloud  and  wintry  sky  (it  is  something  more  than  autumnal), 
and  at  the  edge  a  vivid  golden  streak  of  sun-touched  vapour 
that  heightens  the  grey  cold  and  stormy  promise.  AfiFection, 
luxury,  and  culture,  they  seem  to  my  mind — position  and 
beauty,  and,  at  the  back  of  it  all,  trouble  and  the  promise  of 
trouble.  How  it  makes  one  ache !  Beauty  defiled,  perfec- 
tion marred,  and  happiness  incomplete.  Wherever  you  go 
you  read  the  same,  and  I  see  it  materialised  in  my  wintry 
landscape.  It  reminds  me  of  Patricia  Momington,  both  in 
its  vividness  of  colour  and  the  suggestion  of  trouble  that 
always  seemed  to  be  in  her  atmosphere.  There  was  some- 
thing of  the  Barmecide  Feast  in  Patricia's  life — it  looked  a 
gorgeous  repast,  and  the  best  that  fortune  had  to  offer.  But 
when  one  came  to  examine  it,  it  was  but  empty  golden  dishes, 
and  Patricia  herself  went  hungry.  I  suppose  you  have  never 
chanced  to  see  her  since  we  left?  She  has  not  written  to 
me,  which  is  quite  natural,  and  makes  me  feel  very  injured. 
I  am  less  hurt  with  you,  because  I  know  the  crooked  ways 
and  stony  places  of  your  disposition,  and  no  longer  stumble 
amongst  them.  Still,  you  might  write  and  tell  me  a  pleasant 
lie — as,  for  instance,  that  you  miss  us." 

Fate  was  an  artist.  The  interpolation  of  "  us  "  for  "  me  " 
was  no  blind  to  anybody  concerned ;  but  she  would  not  spoil 
her  own  pose.  The  letter  brought  back  a  reply  from 
Vaughan  three  days  later. 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  are  very  inconsistent  ?  Acknow- 
ledging the  justice  of  your  friends'  silence,  you  then  demand 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  327 

to  have  it  broken — with  a  '  pleasant  lie.'  I  shall  not  lie  to 
you,  however.  A  woman  really  assures  herself  past  any  asser- 
tion or  denial  of  a  man.  I  might  tell  you  again  and  again 
that  I  missed  you  or  the  reverse — but  you  would  believe  your 
own  opinion. 

"  No,  of  coursg,  I  have  not  seen  Miss  Mornington.  That 
is  another  unreason  of  yours.  We  were  *  Ships  that  pass  in 
the  night,'  and,  unless  she  refers  to  her  log-book,  the 
occurrence  is  not  likely  to  strike  her  memory.  You  take  a 
gloomy  view  of  her  prospects,  and  I  wish  that  I  could  cordially 
contradict  it.  I  am  afraid  that  you  and  I,  probably  the  most 
disinterested  of  her  acquaintance,  are  helpless  to  alter  one 
fold  of  that  grey  cloud  of  trouble  that  you  see  around  her. 
And  destiny  having  marked  our  paths  East  and  West,  we 
should  be  fools  to  try  and  converge." 

("  A  restive  touch  of  discontent  in  the  apparent  resigna- 
tion !  "  commented  Fate.     "  I  wonder !  ") 

"  Have  you  never  heard  of  a  Princess  who  was  the  owner 
of  what  was  supposed  to  be  a  most  beautiful  garden,  but  it 
was  all  shut  in  by  bright,  hard  walls  of  gold,  over  which  no 
man  might  see?  The  Princess  was  certainly  there,  because 
those  who  passed  by  under  the  walls  could  sometimes  hear 
her  singing.  But  whether  the  garden  was  really  full  of  jewels 
and  flowers,  or  whether  it  was  a  waste  of  great  stones  and 
cruel  thorns,  no  one  could  tell. 

"  Anyhow,  there  is  no  doubt  of  the  flowers  in  the  garden 
at  Ashingham.  Autumn  is  a  lovely  season,  and  my  beds  are 
full  of  triumphant  colour — no  blue  ribbons  to  spoil  that  har- 
mony !  I  wish  you  could  see  it  all — simply  because,  natu- 
rally, I  want  to  make  you  envious,  your  own  horticultural 
efi^orts  being  so  lamentably  bad.  I  have  no  personal  inclina- 
tion towards  your  figure  as  a  foreground  object  to  my  flowers, 
please  understand." 

To  which  Mrs.  Leroy  wrote  back,  "  How  obvious  people 
are  ! — I  mean  men  people,  of  course.  If  you  had  simply 
painted  your  garden-picture  without  dragging  me  into  the  fore- 
ground, I  might  have  believed  in  you.  As  it  is,  I  have  not 
even  the  delight  of  uncertainty. 

"  I  have  but  just  escaped  from  the  drawing-room,  where  the 
lamps  are  lit  and  tea  has  been  in  progress  for  the  benefit  of 
callers  who  will  talk  (from  the  safe  home  outlook,  hampered 
only  by  conventional  drawbacks)  about  the  undesirable  people 


328  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

who  have  other  or  inferior  circumstances — of  the  people  who 
have  stepped  aside  from  the  High  Road,  the  women  and  men, 
who,  like  David,  have  ways  and  desires  calculated  to  cause 
disturbances.  Even  Eldred's  sweet  and  lovable  little  aunt  sat 
and  purred  approval,  just  as  she  would  read  a  book  per- 
petuating the  stupidities  of  smaJl  people  and  silly  fashions, 
so  long  as  it  did  not  deal  with  human  passions,  for  it  is 
'  wrong '  to  murder,  and  to  make  love  to  your  neighbour's 
wife.  How  narrow  one  is  in  danger  of  growing !  As  if 
vulgarity  were  not  worse  than  immorality.  Wrong  may  help 
one  to  climb,  but  a  vulgar  mind  has  not  enough  of  the  Divine 
to  make  it  understand  the  desire  to  reach  up,  or  to  see  the 
beauty  of  perfect  goodness.  Finally  the  talk  became  domestic 
in  tone — a  queer  mixture  of  prosperous  contentment  and 
decaying  brains,  added  to  nursery  indecencies.  Then  I 
fled,  and  came  to  my  own  room  for  comfort. 

"  Is  there  no  Prince  in  your  fairy-tale,  who  loved  the 
Princess  well  enough,  even  for  the  voice  that  was  all  that 
reached  him,  to  climb  the  golden  wall  and  see  for  himself 
if  she  were  happy?  I  can  imagine  such  a  knight-errant, 
strong  to  risk  his  life,  if  necessary,  for  the  great  aim  before 
him,  and  then  content  to  go  away  if  the  Princess  were  really 
better  off  in  her  garden,  and  he  found  it  full  of  flowers  and 
jewels.  But  if  not — if  it  were  but  hard  stones  and  thorns — 
to  break  down  the  gates  that  guarded  her,  and  ask  her  to 
come  out  into  the  world  with  him.  Poor  Princess !  with  no 
one  to  care  enough  to  make  the  effort ! " 

"  Of  your  morals  I  say  nothing,"  wrote  Vaughan,  with  a 
hint  of  shocked  earnestness  under  the  jest,  "  for  they  are 
obviously  as  bad  as  your  gardening.  But  I  must  protest 
against  your  scornful  egoism  in  dubbing  the  rest  of  the  world 
'  narrow.' " 

("  I  didn't  say  that  he  was  !  "  murmured  Fate  over  the  fine- 
written  page.  There  was  something  scholastic  in  Vaughan's 
handwriting.  "  But  the  chance  shot  evidently  went  home 
where  not  intended.") 

"  Don't  you  know  that  narrowness  is  often  only  the  outcome 
of  strength — the  resisting  force  which  has  been  steadily 
opposed  to  temptation  for  many  dull  years,  until  it  hardens 
nature  into  a  groove  ?  Sneer,  if  you  dare,  at  the  narrowness 
of  men  and  women  who  have  acquired  it  through  self-restraint 
and  decency !     I  cannot  attain  to  their  virtues,  myself " 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  329 

("  A  lapse  into  the  would-be  Bohemian  1 "  sighed  Fate. 
"  Is  there  anything  more  self-deceptive  than  the  pose  of  a 
conventional  man  ?  ") 

"  But  at  least  I  have  the  grace  to  admire  them — at  a 
distance. 

"  I  began  this  letter  intending  to  give  you  some  news,  and 
then  forgot  it  in  the  joy  of  arguing  with  you  again,  though 
only  on  paper.  To  be  brief,  it  is  this — I  have  been  offered 
an  exceptionally  good  opening  abroad,  which  I  know  I  am 
not  justified  in  refusing.  It  is  a  beastly  excellent  offer,  and 
will  take  me  to  New  Zealand.  I  know  I  ought  to  go.  I 
know  also  that  to  a  man  of  my  age  and  temperament  it  will 
be  a  wrench.  It  is  no  use  discussing  it.  If  it  must  be,  it 
must.  I  am  sufficiently  of  the  philosophic  mind  to  cry 
'  Kismet ! ' 

"  No,  of  course,  there  is  no  Prince  in  the  story ;  or,  if 
there  be  one,  he  is  inside  the  garden  walls,  making  love  to 
the  Princess — confound  him  !  I  hope  at  least  that  he  is  a 
decent  fellow.  It's  a  dull  world,  in  spite  of  the  Autumn 
glory.  This  time  next  year  I  may  be — Heaven  knows 
where !  " 

"  Dear  Gerald, 

"  Since  when  has  this  amazing  thing  happened  to 
you,  and  why  are  you  so  meagre  with  your  details?  I  cannot 
even  congratulate  you  until  I  know  that  it  is  really  the  best 
choice  for  you,  and  I  see  many  difficulties  in  your  way.  What 
will  become  of  Bertha  and  of  Ashingham?  Eldred  and  I 
are  on  the  tiptoe  of  expectation  to  hear  more  about  it  than  the 
bald  outline  which  is  all  you  vouchsafe.  I  am  simply  and 
selfishly  disgusted  to  think  that  you  may  be  removed  to  the 
other  side  of  the  world,  and  lose  touch  with  me.  I  cannot 
bear — frankly — to  lose  you.  And  yet  I  am  not  so  much  of 
an  egoist  (how  ungrateful  it  was  of  you  to  call  me  that !)  but 
that  I  will  try  to  be  very  glad  for  you  if  this  is  really  the 
Golden  Opportunity  of  your  Adventure. 

"  When  the  Prince  who  was  outside  the  wall  gave  up  hope 
of  scaling  it,  did  he  turn  his  back  on  the  mere  desire  and 
ride  straight  away  into  the  wilderness?  I  wonder  if  he  did 
— and  what  the  Princess  thought !  Of  course  she  must  have 
known  that  he  was  there,  and  men  always  treat  women  like 
puppets,  without  giving  them  a  chance  of  even  expressing 


330  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

themselves  and  their  views.  I  don't  know  why  you  should 
assign  us  neither  courage  or  right  of  will,  but  it  generally  is 
so  in  the  most  vital  question  of  our  lives." 

"I  am  not  running  away  from  my  own  weakness,  nor  is  a 
hopeless  love  affair  driving  me  to  the  Colonies,"  wrote 
Vaughan  two  days  later.  "  Men  of  my  age  are  more  swayed 
by  practical  gain  than  private  loss,  I  take  it.  The  offer  of  a 
partnership  in  a  sound  firm  is  the  inducement  in  New  Zealand, 
and  not  the  fact  that  I  was  thrown  into  a  companionship  which 
was  unfortunate  for  me,  this  Summer.  There  is  no  Golden 
Opportunity  of  Adventure  even — things  came  about  pro- 
saically enough,  and  were  not  all  startling.  It  is  very  com- 
monplace and  quite  satisfactory,  and  without  a  single  risk  to 
flavour  it.  Destiny  is  simply  evolving  my  future  in  a  different 
way  to  what  I  expected — that  is  all.  Even  Bertha  has  not 
raised  an  obstacle,  for  by  a  miracle  she  is  bitten  with  a  desire 
to  leave  her  household  gods  and  to  travel!  A  certain  Mrs. 
Fisher — a  lady  of  platitudes  and  much  intrinsic  rustle — has 
persuaded  her  to  join  forces  and  go  to  Canada  as  a  beginning 
to  seeing  more  of  this  marvellous  universe.  Can  you  fancy 
Bertha  '  doing  '  the  Canadian  Pacific  Route  in  the  Spring,  and 
passing  suitable  comments  on  that  magnificence  of  pines  and 
snow  ?  Thank  Heaven,  I  shall  not  be  here  to  listen  to  her 
twitterings  on  her  return.  The  Fisher  (not  of  men,  but  of 
views)  is  a  good  soul,  who  has  never  seen  anything  in  her  life, 
though  she  has  spent  much  of  it  in  walking  about  the  earth 
and  taking  universal  photographs  of  what  she  does  not  imder- 
stand. 

"  Everything  is,  therefore,  falling  into  easy  arrangement 
for  me,  and,  like  a  spoilt  child,  I  am  fretting  over  the  lack  of 
difficulties  to  be  overcome.  I  should  enjoy  it  more  if  1  might 
but  slay  the  Lions  at  the  gate  of  the  House  Beautiful.  But 
who  can  find  adventure  in  the  fat,  smug  comfort  with  which 
my  plans  have  shaped  themselves  ?  I  really  feel  like  the  man 
who  holds  a  dummy  handle  while  the  organ  works  itself.  I 
gather  my  only  comfort  from  the  hope  that  you  will  really 
miss  me — that  it  will  almost  hurt  a  little,  as  it  will  hurt  me  a 
great  deal.  I  want  that  parting  at  least  to  be  hard,  a  tangible 
thing  that  cannot  be  swept  away.  Your  '  simple  selfishness' 
in  wishing  to  keep  me  would  once  have  made  it  worth  while 
to  go — but  that  was  long  since,  when  I  was  in  love  with  you. 


AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN.  331 

Now  that  I  have  realised  your  real  value  I  find  that  to  lose 
my  friends — for  I  cannot  dissever  you  from  Eldred  even  in 
thought — has  no  compensation. 

"  For  the  rest,  I  leave  only  memories  behind  me,  as  you 
know.     And  so  we  may  close  the  fairy  tale " 

"  When  were  you  in  love  with  me,  Gerald  ?  What  a  pity  I 
did  not  know !  I  should  have  been  so  proud,  and  enjoyed  it 
so  much !  " 

(Dear  hypocrites  of  women  !  When  had  she  not  known  ? 
When  did  she  not  feel  the  cord  slackening,  and,  in  her  loyalty 
to  both  men,  say  that  she  was  glad,  even  with  a  cheerful  sigh  ! 
She  knew  always,  as  surely  as  she  knew  now  that  he  would 
never  have  told  her  did  he  not  hold  himself  cured ;  and  also 
that  she  would  never  be  quite  the  same  as  another  woman  to 
him,  even  in  the  most  prosaic  friendship,  because  he  had 
once  set  her  in  the  empty  shrine  of  his  heart,  to  worship!) 

"  I  have  liked  you  so  much,"  she  went  on,  touching  honesty 
in  the  midst  of  coquetting  with  truth,  "  that  if  you  had  really 
loved  me,  though  only  for  a  day,  I  should  have  counted  it  as 
a  clean  honour.  There  are  some  people  whose  very  thought 
of  love  seems  only  to  defile  its  object— others  by  whom  it 
only  crowns. 

"  As  Eldred  gets  better  and  we  go  about  together,  I  realise 
what  I  nearly  lost.  Perhaps  at  the  time  I  was  mercifully 
numb ;  Nature  is  always  her  own  salvation,  is  she  not  ?  Now 
that  the  sensation  is  returning  to  my  nerves,  I  sometimes  hold 
my  breath  at  the  pain.  And  yet  I  laugh  and  talk,  and  even 
joke  over  that  time,  as  if  I  had  no  sense  of  awe.  But  one 
does  not  speak  of  the  sacred  side  of  life,  save  in  some  crisis 
that  lifts  one  clear  of  self-consciousness.  It  is,  perhaps,  only 
because  I  am  writing  to  you  that  I  can  mention  it — if  we  were 
face  to  face  I  should  not  dare  to  go  back  with  you,  even  in 
memory,  to  those  first  days  when  he  lay  there,  unconscious  of 

me all  the  holiness  of  my  life  lies  still  on  that  altar 

of  my  heart's  oratory,  and  outside  it  my  days  seem  such  pagan 
things 

"  I  wonder  that  you  have  the  nerve  to  upbraid  me  for  my 
strictures  on  dull  people  after  your  description  of  the  Fisher- 
woman.  I  can  see  her  in  my  mind's  eye,  good  worthy  soul, 
with  her  camera  and  her  '  intrinsic  rustle.'  I  am  sure,  for  all 
her  respectability,  that  she  is  one  of  those  who  make  gods  of 


332  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

what  she  would  caJl  '  Our  Aristocracy,'  and  would  worship  a 
naughty  duchess.  This  was  a  point  I  could  hardly  make 
Patricia  understand.  She  saw  the  thing  immediately  before 
her  with  her  large  grave  eyes,  and  that  happened  to  be  the 
vulgarity  of  a  certain  set  of  so-called  *  Society '  environing 
her  life,  and  the  pleasanter  circle  I  had  drawn  round  myself 
in  contrast  to  it.  Beyond  this  she  encountered  occasional 
bores  even  outside  her  own  family,  and  she  loved  the  Duke  of 
London — but  these  she  regarded  as  exceptions  to  prove  her 
rule.  She  judged  according  to  generality,  and  found  the 
drawbacks  of  Sunnington  less  than  those  of  Piccadilly.  As 
to  such  excellent  people  as  Mrs.  Fisher,  for  instance,  timidly 
admiring  the  smart  men  and  women  of  whom  she  thinks  she 
reads  in  the  penny  papers,  Patricia  would  simply  say  that  it 
could  only  be  the  result  of  ignorance.  And,  perhaps,  she 
would  be  right — ^in  her  own  case  at  least,  for  vice  to  her  was 
merely  a  form  of  ill-breeding,  and  devoid  of  romance. 

"  Do  not  hurry  on  your  preparations  too  much  !  Eldred 
and  I  will  be  back  now  in  a  week  or  so — we  will  fix  a  definite 
date,  if  that  for  your  departure  is  fixed — and  we  must  see 
something  of  you  before  you  go. 

"P.S.     Were  you  really  in  love  with  me?" 

The  last  letter  but  one  that  passed  between  them  was 
brief,  being  from  Gerald  Vaughan,  already  immersed  in  pack- 
ing cases. 

"  Of  course  I  was  in  love  with  you,  but  you  see  you  never 
even  knew  it,  so  I  fell  out  of  love  again.  It  seems,  does  it 
not,  as  if  my  genius  decreed  that  I  should  always  set  my 
worship  on  an  absent  goddess,  and  bow  before  an  empty 
shrine  ?  Heaven  knows !  the  devotion  I  bestow  so  unluckily 
is  not  very  well  worth  having — '  A  poor  thing,  Madam,  but 
mine  own  ! '  I  wonder  what  my  Princess  would  have  thought 
of  such  a  sorry  gift,  could  she  in  her  wildest  dreams  have 
conjectured  my  state  of  mind !  But  it  being  nearly  as 
irrational  to  fall  in  love  with  a  Princess  inside  a  golden  forti- 
fication as  with  you — who  did  not  want  me — I  have  no  doubt 
but  that  my  recuperative  power  will  once  more  assert  itself, 
and  I  shall  recover  a  second  time.  I  had  no  idea  I  was  so 
susceptible — in  fact,  I  laugh  a  little,  grimly,  when  I  think 
that  I  am  often  chosen  by  mammas  with  naughty  charges  to 
be  the  butt  of  their  allurements,  being  accounted  absolutely 
safe  and  fireproof. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  333 

"  At  least  this  is  left  me,  that  in  neither  case  of  my  weak- 
ness have  I  anything  to  regret.  I  would  not,  indeed,  part 
with  one  pleasure  or  one  pang  of  either  experience 

"  Bertha  asks  me  to  give  you  her  love,  as  she  is  too  busy  to 
write.  A  contemplation  of  sublime  scenery  is  evidently  im- 
possible without  an  unsuitable  hat  and  a  new  sunshade.  I 
believe  that  women's  desire  to  travel  is  only  to  find  an  excuse 
for  purchase.  For  myself,  I  shall  not  leave  until  your  return 
— though  I  am  not  a  sentimentalist,  'the  claim  of  an  old 
friendship  clings  in  the  hand '  with  me.  I  could  not  go 
without  bidding  you  both  Good-bye " 


334 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"01  rose  up  and  came  away, 

And  the  World  went  wailing  by  ; 
But  the  past  I  left  behind  that  day 
Will  follow  me  till  I  die- 
Will  follow  me  till  I  die  ! " 

Song/rom  King  Cophetua. 

There  is  nothing  so  bewildering  in  choosing  a  spot  to  live  in 
as  to  have  practically  the  round  world  from  which  to  choose. 
People  fret  that  circumstances  or  obligation  tie  them  to  one 
place,  but  as  a  fact  to  have  no  such  ties  and  to  be  free  to 
choose  is  a  far  harder  lot.  It  places  the  responsibility  on  the 
individual  instead  of  on  Providence,  and  there  is  nothing  we 
resent  so  much  as  our  own  mistakes.  Patricia  had  meant  to 
decide  at  once  and  off-hand  the  place  of  her  immediate 
future,  and  to  wrench  her  life  free  of  its  present  surroundings 
while  the  impulse  was  still  hot  in  her  veins.  She  was  in  a 
mood  of  violent  action,  the  dizziness  of  a  succession  of  events 
in  her  life  having  shaken  her  mental  balance  a  little,  so  that 
she  was  still  the  victim  of  her  own  momentum — like  a  material 
body  which  goes  on  moving  after  the  force  which  set  it  in 
motion  has  passed.  But  though  she  was  settled  in  her  deter- 
mination to  leave  the  house  in  Piccadilly  as  soon  as  she  found 
another  habitation,  the  finding  of  such  was  not  so  easy  a 
matter  as  it  had  appeared.  She  would  have  returned  to 
Madeira,  but  that  she  had  found  the  place  intolerable  through 
associations  with  Lady  Helen,  who  had  been  the  centre  of 
the  life  there  to  her.  To  stay  in  England  meant  a  certain 
discomfort  as  long  as  she  remained  in  touch  with  any  of  the 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  335 

people  who  had  been  a  part  of  her  brief  experience  there, 
with  the  exception  of  Fate  Leroy,  and  it  was  just  on  account 
of  Fate  that  she  turned  her  eyes  desperately  on  the  map  of 
the  country  of  which  she  knew  so  little,  and  lost  herself 
amongst  its  innumerable  names,  any  one  of  which  was  merely 
a  speculation  to  her.  Had  Fate  been  at  home,  she  would 
inevitably  have  gone  to  Sunnington  for  a  time  while  she  con- 
sidered ;  but  the  Leroys  were  still  away,  the  process  of  re- 
turning to  life  having  been  a  longer  one  in  Eldred's  case  than 
anyone  but  his  wife  expected.  The  projected  visit  to  the 
Harbingers  was  of  course  impossible  under  the  circumstances, 
and  even  had  they  not  had  a  large  party  coming  to  Chilcote 
for  the  shooting,  Patricia  felt  a  secret  shrinking  from  im- 
mediate association  with  Chiffon  until  time  had  worn  down 
the  rough  edges  of  her  confidences. 

So  she  lingered  on  in  town,  estranged  from  the  few  people 
around  her.  and  seeing  little  even  of  them.  Lady  Vera  could 
not  leave  Piccadilly  for  a  week  or  so,  however  she  chafed 
against  the  great  empty  house  and  its  dreadful  memories ; 
there  were  certain  things  to  be  settled,  and  an  amount  of 
litigation  involving  her  in  its  toils,  as  she  had  foreseen.  There 
was,  however,  no  great  difficulty  as  to  an  advance  of  money, 
once  the  lawyers  were  convinced  of  there  being  no  will,  and 
if  she  chose  she  could  keep  up  the  house  in  Piccadilly,  and 
live  her  life  as  usual,  only  relieved  of  the  grip  of  fear  which 
that  one  sinister  figure  in  its  locked  rooms  had  never  quite 
lost  upon  her.  But  Lady  Vera  was  hindered  from  a  final 
decision  by  being  unable  to  consult  her  co-legatee  upon  the 
matter,  and  was  obliged  to  temporise  in  consequence.  Once 
the  immediate  impression  of  the  interview  was  off  her  mind, 
she  began  to  take  a  more  indifferent  view  of  Patricia's  atti- 
tude. The  thing  she  had  threatened  seemed  so  impossible 
that  her  mother  came  to  the  desired  conclusion  that  it  had 
been  done  under  the  shock  of  finding  herself  stripped  of  name 
and  position  legally,  even  though  it  was  a  supposed  secret 
socially.  It  was,  no  doubt,  a  bitter  blow  to  Patricia's  pride, 
but  Lady  Vera  decided  that  it  was  merely  a  question  of  time 
to  make  her  get  over  it  and  used  to  the  thought,  and  that 
to  take  things  for  granted  was  her  safest  course.  If  everyone 
accepted  her  position  as  heiress  to  Mornington's  wealth  she 
would  find  that  she  could  not  extricate  herself.  There  is 
nothing  so  difficult  to  combat  as  a  settled  tradition  or  belief. 


336  AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

Lady  Vera  knew  the  weight  of  general  opinion,  and  the  value 
of  regarding  what  she  wished  as  already  settled.  She  could 
not  conceive  it  possible  that  Patricia  would  make  the  stand 
she  had  no  doubt  intended  in  the  heat  of  the  moment.  Let 
things  level  themselves.  She  did  not  press  her  daughter  for 
any  opinion  in  legal  matters  that  might  compromise  either  of 
them  before  the  lawyers,  and  warded  off  a  consultation  with 
her  for  the  immediate  present.  In  time  she  judged  that  the 
mere  sequence  of  events  would  bind  Patricia  hand  and  foot  in 
the  toils  of  custom,  and  she  would  cease  to  struggle.  She 
smiled  a  little  bitterly  to  think  that  she  was  fighting  to  force 
the  girl  to  accept  two  millions  of  money  and  a  social  position 
which  others  would  have  lied  and  cheated  to  gain.  But  Patricia 
was  no  more  to  be  reckoned  with  just  now  than  a  mad  woman, 
according  to  her  mother.  The  unlucky  discovery  she  had 
made  had  driven  her  to  acting  without  self-interest — and 
there  was  no  greater  proof  of  insanity  to  Lady  Vera's  mind. 

On  her  side  Patricia,  having  stated  her  intentions,  left  her 
mother  to  do  as  she  pleased  in  the  face  of  them.  She  did 
not  even  wonder  as  to  what  explanation  Lady  Vera  would 
give  of  her  refusal  to  inherit  the  money;  certain  in  her  own 
mind  that  she  would  not  inherit,  she  left  the  details  of  the 
matter  to  Lady  Vera  as  a  mere  concession.  She  did  not  care, 
herself,  what  people  thought.  It  was  the  other  woman  to 
whom  it  was  of  importance  to  gloss  over  an  impossible  situa- 
tion. 

Though  the  house  in  Piccadilly  was  still  one  of  mourning 
ostensibly,  people  seemed  to  come  and  go  much  after  their 
usual  fashion.  Lady  Vera's  set  being  so  leavened  with  Blais's 
she  had  always  the  plea  of  kinship  in  admitting  them;  and 
when  by  chance  Patricia  did  appear  in  the  more  public  rooms 
she  found  some  offshoot  of  the  family  present  at  least,  who 
appeared  to  be  still  stranded  in  town.  The  truth  was  that 
the  old  bitter  proverb  of  the  carcass  and  the  eagles  is  true  of 
all  such  women  as  Lady  Vera  and  her  household — her  para- 
sites of  relations  clung  to  her  and  sucked  her  wealth  if  not 
her  vitality,  and  she  invariably  bought  the  popularity  of  which 
she  boasted.  If  not  generous  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word, 
she  was  open-handed  from  the  habit  of  her  race,  for  her  youth 
had  been  accustomed  to  the  reckless  liberality  and  extrava- 
gance of  Ragby,  where  they  boasted  that  they  kept  open 
house — though  it  was  eventually  paid  for  by  other  than  Blais 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  337 

money.  There  were  few  among  her  women  friends  who  did 
not  borrow  from  Lady  Vera,  and  there  were  some  men  in 
whose  memories  were  like  debts  by  which  they  measured  the 
lowest  point  in  their  degradation.  But  wheresoever  Lady 
Vera  was  the  eagles  would  be  gathered  together,  even  though 
it  were  London  out  of  the  Season. 

There  was  a  certain  grave  courtesy  about  Patricia  when  she 
chanced  to  encounter  these  parasites  which  did  not  encourage 
the  usual  loud  chatter  that  was  their  special  characteristic, 
and  so  no  one  talked  to  Nougat  over  much.  She  was  sup- 
posed to  be  feeling  her  father's  death  to  a  quite  phenomenal 
extent.  It  was  not  much  that  any  of  them  saw  of  her,  for 
she  contrived  to  withdraw  herself  without  rudeness  but  quite 
inevitably,  and  for  a  time  it  saved  her  from  any  personal  in- 
terrogation. But  she  strolled  into  the  smoking-room  on  one 
of  these  occasions,  partly  to  escape  a  few  people  who  had 
lunched  at  the  house  and  seemed  likely  to  be  augmented 
during  the  afternoon,  and  having  entered  the  room  too  far  to 
retreat  she  found  that  it  had  a  solitary  occupant  with  whom 
she  had  been  avoiding  an  encounter  for  some  successful  weeks. 
A  long  figure  rose  out  of  one  of  the  padded  chairs,  and  a 
grey  head  shot  up  a  good  five  inches  above  her  own. 

"  At  last !  "  said  Caryl  Lexiter. 

When  you  are  at  a  disadvantage  it  is  as  well  at  least  to 
look  contented.  Patricia  advanced  leisurely,  with  no  appear- 
ance of  having  had  a  thought  of  retreat  and  held  out  her 
hand. 

"  I  am  running  away  from  an  influx  of  relations,"  she  said 
carelessly.  "  You  must  please  not  take  that  personally,  as  I 
did  not  know  that  you  were  here.  But  the  Blais  Herons, 
and  Captain  Blais,  and  Lady  Harley,  have  all  lunched  with 
us,  and  I  feel  a  little  choked  with  family  ties.  Are  you 
having  a  cigarette?     Let  me  join  you  then." 

He  handed  her  his  case  silently,  and  watched  while  she 
selected  one  and  lit  it.  He  did  not  attempt  to  put  his  hand 
against  hers  this  time,  but  merely  struck  the  match  and 
handed  it  to  her.  She  was  trying  to  forget  the  last  time  she 
had  heard  this  man's  voice — a  bodiless  thing  of  mere  typical 
passion,  beyond  heavy  curtains  that  still  seemed  to  stifle  her. 

"  Where  have  you  been  all  these  weeks.  Nougat  ?  "  he  said 
gently.     "  I  have  never  been  allowed  to  see  you." 

"  I  have  seen  as  few  people  as  possible,"  she  answered 

22 


338  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

steadily.  "  I  wanted  to  be  quiet.  By  the  way,  is  your  arm 
quite  recovered?     I  heard  of  the  accident." 

"  Quite,  thanks.  You  see  I  have  got  rid  of  the  sling.  It 
only  feels  a  trifle  stifif.     Who  told  you  ?  " 

"  Chiffon,  I  think — or  Lord  Lowndes.     I  forget  which." 

"  You  have  seen  Lowndes  then — and  yet  you  would  not 
see  me ! " 

The  reproach  threatened  her,  and  made  her  brace  her 
nerves  for  what  might  be  coming.  "  I  saw  him  before  Mr. 
Mornington — died,"  she  said  quietly.  "  On  the  morning  of 
that  very  day,  I  think.  I  had  gone  to  enquire  for  the  Duke, 
and  he  came  in  also  and  said  he  had  met  you  at  the  Club. 
He  had  been  at  Rye,"  she  added  with  a  bitter  regret  that  he 
could  not  follow.  She  remembered  her  plea  to  be  allowed 
to  go  down  there,  and  Mornington's  refusal.  She  understood 
him — at  last. 

"  I  know — I  heard  he  had  been  almost  the  last  to  see  your 
father,"  said  Caryl,  with  a  certain  grave  kindness,  and  a  brief 
touch  of  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder.  It  was  so  slight  that 
it  was  gone  before  she  could  shrink.  "  I  am  so  sorry  for  you, 
Nougat !  " 

She  did  not  answer,  for  she  was  trying  to  recall  the  time 
when  she  had  nearly  loved  this  man,  and  it  filled  her  with  a 
stupid  wonder.  So  much  had  come  between  them !  It 
was  like  talking  to  a  ghost. 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  care  for  my  sympathy — 'm  ?  "  He 
made  a  little  questioning  characteristic  sound  with  his  lips, 
and  she  felt  his  eyes  drooped  upon  her  face.  The  conscious- 
ness was  an  irritation,  but  it  could  not  move  her  now.  She 
lifted  her  own  lashes  and  glanced  up  beautifully,  but  with  the 
indifference  of  a  child. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  be  ungrateful — but  it  seems  of  so  little 
importance,  in  the  face  of  the  thing  itself,  that  people  should 
be  sorry  for  me.  It  meant  so  much  to  me,  in  many  ways, 
that  I  do  not  even  care  to  speak  of  it." 

The  words  came  a  little  thoughtfully,  and  the  eyes  bent 
upon  her  face  altered  from  dreamy  softness  to  a  keener  look 
of  speculation.  He  did  not  quite  know  what  she  meant,  and 
it  was  important  that  he  should  be  able  to  follow  her  drift. 

"  Of  course  it  will  affect  all  your  life,  both  present  and 
future,  I  understand  that.  Where  do  you  think  of  going, 
Nougat?     Lady  D'Aulnoy  told  me  she  thought  you  wanted 


AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN.  339 

an  entire  change,  and  the  Harbingers  are  out  of  the  question 
now,  I  suppose." 

"  I  have  not  decided,"  said  Patricia  quietly.  Her  mother 
had  not  taken  this  man  into  her  confidence  then,  as  yet;  or 
else  he  was  playing  a  deep  game  of  pretended  ignorance. 

"  I  wish  you  would  come  to  us.  We  are  awfully  quiet  at 
Queensleigh,  for  my  father  has  an  attack  of  gout,  and  Loftus 
and  his  wife  are  going  to  Scotland.  There  would  be  only  me 
to  plague  you,  and  you  should  do  just  as  you  like." 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Patricia  with  a  gentle  instant  de- 
cision. "  I  am  not  going  away  at  present — not  visiting,  at 
any  rate." 

"  What  are  your  plans,  then  ?  I  know  that  if  I  once  let  you 
go  without  telling  me,  you  will  slip  away  for  months  again, 
and  I  shall  never  see  anything  of  you." 

"  Very  possibly,"  said  Patricia,  her  eyes  meeting  his  again 
with  steady  comprehension.  She  hoped  that  he  would  un- 
derstand her  and  say  no  more,  but  a  long  course  of  proving 
irresistible  to  the  opposite  sex  had  made  Lexiter  incredulous 
of  failure. 

"  But  that  is  just  what  I  don't  want,''  he  said  with  a  smile 
beginning  in  the  meaning  of  his  eyes.  "  You  know  I  don't 
want  to  lose  sight  of  you,  don't  you.  Nougat  ?  " 

"  I  know  of  no  adequate  reason  why  you  should  not." 

"  What  is  an  adequate  reason  ?  Is  there  one  in  the  back 
ground  of  your  mind  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  might  be  in  love  with  another  man, 
and  consequently  indifferent  as  to  whether  I  lost  sight  of  you 
or  anyone  else  ?  "  said  Patricia  composedly.  "  No,  I  have 
no  '  adequate  reason '  of  that  sort — I  think  I  never  shall 
have,"  she  added  slowly. 

"  Why,  Nougat  ?  " 

There  was  some  sort  of  movement  between  them,  she 
thought  his  hand  touched  her,  and  moved  deliberately  away 
from  him,  her  eyes  on  the  blank  windows  through  which  she 
could  see  the  faint  blue  of  the  autumn  sky  and  the  delicate 
skeleton  of  a  tree  in  the  Green  Park,  for  the  smoking-room, 
like  her  own,  overlooked  Piccadilly.  The  stripped  branches 
gave  her  a  vague  sense  of  unhappiness  and  desertion. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  I  shall  ever  marry,"  she  said  with  a 
grave  simplicity  that  proved  a  better  barrier  than  any  resist- 
ance.    "  I  have  made  certain  discoveries  about  myself  that 

22* 


340  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

do  not  tend  to  marriage.  I  shall  never  take  any  man's  name, 
I  think,"  she  said,  and  her  eyes  met  his  again,  adding  what 
her  lips  so  carefully  paraphrased. 

A  look  of  actual  disturbance,  or  of  discomfort  at  least, 
flashed  into  his  eyes  in  answer  to  hers.  He  understood — 
something ;  but  beneath  the  little  soft  tawny  moustache  that 
looked  so  boyish  contrasted  with  his  silver  hair,  she  saw  the 
set  line  of  his  beautiful  lips  and  realised  that  she  had  silenced 
them.  He  would  not  say  any  more  now;  and  her  second 
line  of  attack — his  own  infidelities  in  the  past  and  present — 
need  not  be  called  into  action — save  for  Chiffon's  message. 
That  she  must  give,  and  if  he  saw  any  significance  in  it,  it 
would  but  be  the  final  seal  on  the  unspoken  words  between 
them.  She  took  in  his  whole  face  and  figure  for  a  moment 
with  a  large  grave  glance,  as  something  to  which  she  said 
good-bye — the  great  height  which  made  him  remarkable,  the 
square  shoulders  and  loose  build,  the  thickness  of  his  white 
hair  and  the  handsome,  well-bred  face  beneath  it.  His  lids 
drooped  a  little  and  veiled  the  expression  in  his  eyes,  which 
looked  brown  in  this  light,  and  she  noticed  carefully  what  a 
well-shaped  chin  he  had,  square  and  strong.  There  was  no 
weakness  in  his  face,  and  yet  she  knew  him  so  unreliable,  so 
much  the  product  of  traditions  and  licence!  Poor  Gawain, 
who  was  not  worth  a  real  sorrow,  and  for  whom  her  feeling 
was  half  pitying  even  now,  and  half  a  sad  scorn. 

"  Light  was  Gawain  !n  life — and  light  in  death  ?  " 

She  wondered  whether  Lexiter's  death  would  be  a  real 
tragedy  to  any  woman — to  Chiffon,  and  others  who  were  still 
to  come  beneath  his  spell  ?  Surely  the  many  to  whom  he 
was  false  in  turn  would  easily  console  themselves,  though  they 
would  never  find  a  more  gracefully  shallow  lover ! 

"  I  have  a  message  from  Chiffon  for  you — in  case  you  have 
not  seen  her  lately,"  she  said  quietly,  and  without  pausing  to 
give  him  power  to  answer.  "  She  wanted  me  to  ask  you  not 
to  go  to  see  her  for  a  time,  because  it  would  make  it  very 
difficult  for  her.  You  are  sure  to  meet  socially,  of  course, 
but  to  avoid  a  breach  you  must  be — careful.  Lord  Har- 
binger thinks  he  has  cause  to  resent  your  presence  in  his 
house."  She  did  not  look  at  him  as  she  spoke,  but  she  was 
aware  that  he  was  standing  very  still.     "  Let  us  go  up  to  the 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  341 

drawing-room — they  must  be  having  tea,"'  she  said  with  a 
quiet  finality  in  her  tone,  and  turning  from  him  as  from  a 
boolc  she  had  finished,  or  an  incident  that  is  closed,  she  went 
out  of  the  room  and  up  the  immemorial  staircase  where  she 
had  pleaded  with  Mornington  to  let  her  come  to  Rye.  The 
memory  of  that  day  always  haunted  her  whenever  she  siet  her 
foot  on  the  shallow  stairs. 

To  her  surprise  and  annoyance  the  drawing-room  seemed 
to  be  half  full  of  people  when  she  entered  it  with  Lexiter 
behind  her.  Those  who  had  lunched  had  evidently  stayed 
on,  and  been  augmented  by  other  visitors,  and  the  scene 
between  the  white  pillars  of  the  room  appeared  to  Patricia 
very  much  what  she  had  seen  it  when  the  Season  was  in  full 
swing  and  her  mother  was  legitimately  entertaining.  The 
bad  taste  of  this  assembly  but  a  few  weeks  after  Mornington's 
death  jarred  upon  her,  and  she  wondered  in  the  same  instant 
where  all  these  people  had  come  from.  The  Blais  Herons 
were  chattering  with  Lady  Vera,  and  Valerie,  dressed  after 
the  fashion  of  a  "  Maud  Goodman  "  child,  was  running  to 
and  fro  among  the  other  guests,  talking  as  usual  loudly  and 
intimately.  Chiffon  had  evidently  come  to  say  good-bye 
(they  were  leaving  town  on  the  morrow,  Patricia  knew) ;  she 
nodded  from  the  window  where  she  stood  the  instant  her 
friend  appeared,  and  across  the  room  Patricia  could  hear 
Lord  Harbinger  saying  something  about  "  Rotten  !  "  She 
glanced  swiftly  round  her,  and  recognised  that  at  least  these 
people  had  the  excuse  of  kinship,  for  she  saw  no  one  who 
could  not  claim  a  remote  tie.  Nevertheless,  she  liked  it 
none  the  more,  and  with  hardly  a  salutation  she  crossed  the 
room  and  sat  down  near  Chiffon  by  the  window,  her  appear- 
ance evidently  carrying  an  atmosphere  of  chill  and  rebuke 
with  it,  for  the  loud  voices  dropped  a  note  lower,  and  one  or 
two  guests  fidgeted  as  if  they  would  fain  have  been  elsewhere. 
It  was  impossible  not  to  see  Patricia  as  she  crossed  a  room, 
however  unobtrusive  she  might  desire  to  be,  both  on  account 
of  her  height  and  her  carriage.  She  drew  men's  and  women's 
eyes  and  held  them,  whether  willingly  or  no. 

The  talk  rose  again  as  soon  as  her  immediate  personality 
passed  them  by,  scraps  of  conversation  filling  Patricia  with 
the  same  weary  wonder  that  had  beset  her  so  many  times 
when  Mornington  was  present  and  she  felt  him  the  only  othei 
soul  in  the  room  who  was  an  alien. 


342  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

"  We  are  going  on  to  Ragby  in  a  day  or  so.  Thought  we 
must  come  and  look  up  poor  Vee  and  hear  how  things  are 
with  her.     Awful  business  altogether — what  ?  " 

"Oh,  awful!  Last  thing  anyone  would  have  fancied  him 
doin' — he  was  such  a  decent  old  boy  !  " 

"Very  awkward  about  there  being  no  will,  too.  Man 
shouldn't  do  such  a  thing — ought  to  remember  what  will 
happen  when  he's  gone." 

"  It  might  have  been  worse,  as  far  as  money  goes.  Vee 
gets  a  third.  Harbutt  died  last  week  and  Carberry  tells  me 
he  didn't  leave  his  wife  a  dollar." 

"  Well !  Would  you  have  him  leave  it  practically  to  Win- 
dersley?  She  has  been  paying  his  card  debts  regularly  for 
years.     Sir  Richard  knew  what  would  happen — what  ?  " 

"Poor  Vee  looks  awfully  cut  up,  anyhow." 

Patricia  glanced  across  the  room,  where,  against  one  of 
the  white  pillars,  her  mother's  figure  stood  out  sharply.  The 
black  gown  that  closed  her  like  a  snake's  skin  made  her  cop- 
pered hair  reddish  gold,  and  her  face  was  a  whitened  grinning 
mask  to  Patricia's  eyes,  for  she  was  laughing.  Even  acros-j 
the  room  the  metal  of  her  voice  in  converse  with  Ernest  Blais 
Heron  was  a  blatant  thing.  Her  daughter's  lip  curled  a  little 
at  this  mother's  sympathisers  who  pronounced  her  "  cut  up." 
But  perhaps  her  loud-voiced  complaints  had  reached  their 
deadened  senses  where  finer  feeling  would  have  been  lost 
upon  them. 

Another  voice  nearer  at  hand  took  up  the  chatter. 

"Are  you  going  to  Ragby?  I  say,  Minnie  Heron  was 
asked,  and  they  sent  her  a  list  of  the  men  going  and  wanted 
to  know  which  she  would  have  in  her  dressing-room !  " 

"  I  believe  they  change  round  at  Ragby.  Last  year  Colonel 
Carte  was  the  popular  man." 

"Was  that  Ralph  Carte  or  the  brother?" 

"No,  Gaston.  Ralph  is  a  cousin — son  of  old  Randal,  who 
drank  a  bottle  of  port  every  day  at  Boodles'  for  ten  years. 
Then  he  took  to  sherry  and  it  killed  him  in  another  five. 
You  wouldn't  remember — he  was  before  your  day." 

"  Odd,  ain't  it,  how  a  well-known  man  is  only  somebody 
to  his  generation — what  ?  " 

The  speaker  might  have  added  that  women  also  left  no 
mark  beyond  their  own  day,  yet  for  the  space  of  the  three  score 
years  and  ten  during  which  they  cumbered  earth  they  were 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  343 

more  household  words  than  any  great  name  of  public  life  to 
their  own  world  and  a  little  beyond.  It  is  not  the  famous 
Dukes  or  the  beautiful  Duchesses  who  are  the  essential 
familiars  of  their  age  in  the  Society  in  which  they  live  ;  these 
stray  perhaps  into  history,  and  are  at  least  heard  of  by  the 
general  public,  but  from  the  days  of  Colley  Gibber  until  now 
there  is  a  strata  of  people  so  celebrated  within  their  own 
bounds  that  they  are  as  much  a  part  of  education  as  the  use 
of  the  globes.  What  they  were  in  Gibber's  day  one  hardly 
knows,  but  they  existed  ;  and  to-day  they  are  the  Mrs.  "  Jack  " 
Blais  and  Mrs.  "Teddy"  Lexiter  of  the  "Court  Circular " 
in  the  Morning  Post.  Their  husband's  nicknames  clothe 
them  even  in  public,  and  they  are  the  chic  alternative  for  the 
double  surname.  Save  in  very  well-known  families  an  extra 
surname  is  the  hall-mark  of  the  Middle  Glasses,  but  the 
simple  vulgarity  of  Mrs.  Bob  or  Lady  Algy  has  become  an 
acknowledged  distinction.  If  Patricia  had  taken  the  trouble 
to  distinguish  the  scions  of  the  house  of  Blais  round  about 
her,  she  would  hardly  have  found  one  who  was  not  of  this 
undercurrent  of  Society — so  distinguished  in  their  little  day 
that  to  mention  their  names  was  to  describe  them,  so  unim- 
portant to  their  age  that,  as  one  of  them  had  said,  their 
characteristic  vices  hardly  survived  a  generation. 

Lexiter  had  been  absorbed  in  the  throng,  and,  hidden  from 
Patricia,  was  chatting  familiarly  with  Lady  D'Aulnoy  as 
though  he  had  suffered  no  gall  of  defeat.  At  his  age  men  do 
not  dress  their  wounds  in  public,  but  he  did  not  follow  the 
woman  who  had  practically  refused  him,  across  the  room,  as 
he  might  have  done  at  another  time.  After  a  few  minutes, 
however,  another  cousin  of  Patricia's — the  very  Captain  Blais 
who  had  bored  her  at  luncheon — came  up  and  offered  to 
bring  her  some  tea.  He  was  in  the  Household  troops,  be- 
cause he  could  not  have  lived  on  his  means  even  in  a  Line 
regiment,  and  the  position  was  looked  upon  as  a  good  specu- 
lation by  his  family,  who  expected  him  to  marry  money  on 
the  strength  of  it.  He  was  chiefly  remarkable  for  a  good 
figure  and  no  chin,  and  Patricia  accepted  the  tea  for  the 
express  purpose  of  sending  him  to  fetch  it  and  so  getting  rid 
of  him.  Unluckily,  his  offer,  made  in  a  loud  voice,  drew 
several  people's  attention,  and  to  her  regret  Patricia  found  her 
quiet  seat  suddenly  besieged. 

"  How  silent  you  are,  Nougat  1     I  did  not  even  know  that 


344  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

you  were  there.     What  a  lot  of  people,  aren't  there?    I  did 
not  expect  to  meet  anyone  else." 

"  Perhaps  they  all  came  under  the  same  delusion !  " 

"  Oh !  /  really  came  to  see  how  poor  Vee  was  getting 
through  it.  And  you,  too.  I  am  sure  you  are  worried  to 
death." 

"  I  am  not  of  a  worrying  disposition,  thanks." 

"  What  a  blessing  for  you  !  But  it's  enough  to  give  any 
body  nerves,  this  bother  about  the  will,  I  mean." 

Patricia  did  not  answer,  but  her  discouraging  silence 
appeared  lost  upon  the  people  thronging  about  her.  Little 
Valerie,  darting  across  the  room,  flung  herself  against 
Patricia's  knees  in  a  boisterous  welcome,  and  spoke  in  her 
peculiarly  clear  and  self-assertive  treble,  even  the  strong  white 
hand  that  put  her  gently  aside  not  checking  her  effusion  for 
a  moment,  though  Patricia  of  all  her  noisy  world  generally 
had  a  quieting  influence  upon  the  overwrought,  precocious 
little  girl. 

"  Sceptre  !  I'm  going  to  call  you  Sceptre  instead  of  Nougat 
— I  like  it  better  than  Nougat !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  It's  what 
the  men  call  you — Lord  Windersley  told  me.  Sceptre  the 
horse  is  worth  thousands  of  pounds,  isn't  she — ^but  this  dear 
darling  Sceptre  is  worth  much  more ! " 

The  child  had  thrust  her  arm  round  Patricia's  waist,  and 
though  her  caresses  were  as  unwelcome  as  her  words,  for  the 
moment  only  roughness  could  have  thrown  her  off.  Patricia 
looked  down  into  the  dark  excited  eyes,  and  at  the  little  lips 
that  were  trained  so  woefully  to  smile,  with  grave  displeasure. 
Valerie,  half  frightened,  laid  her  red  curls  coaxingly  against 
the  girl's  arm. 

"You  are  the  greatest  heiress  in  London,  aren't  you, 
Sceptre?  What  will  you  buy  now  you  are  so  rich?  Aunty 
Vee  told  mamma  that  you  would  have  two  millions — you 
are  a  lucky  girl !     Don't  I  wish  I  were  you — rather !  " 

It  was  probably  the  opinion  of  every  single  person  in  the 
room,  voiced  by  the  child's  bold  statement.  But  no  one  else 
could  have  put  it  plainly  into  words. 

"  Hush,  Val ! "  said  the  lady  who  had  been  speaking  to 
Patricia.  ^  "  But  it  doesn't  really  matter,"  she  added  easily. 
"The  child  was  bound  to  hear  it  discussed — isn't  she  quick, 
the  little  monkey? — ^there  being  no  will  was  such  a  nine-days' 
wonder.     What  a  fortunate  thing  that  the  money  is  all  right, 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  345 

Nougat — and  no  legacies  to  cut  into  it !  I  tell  Vee  she  ought 
to  be  thankful  for  that.  I  had  a  long  talk  with  her  yester- 
day, so  it's  no  breach  of  confidence  to  speak  of  it — still  you 
know  you  mustn't  talk  of  these  things,  Val.  We  don't  want 
them  chattered  about." 

The  child  looked  up  shrewdly.  Patrica's  hand  on  her 
shoulder,  half  holding  her  away,  half  retaining  her  in  her 
caressing  attitude,  had  tightened  as  if  unconsciously,  and 
Patricia's  eyes  had  gone  over  her  head  to  the  face  of  the  lady 
who  had  spoken. 

"  My  mother  talked  to  you  about  it  ?  What  did  she  say  ?  " 
she  demanded,  not  hurriedly,  but  with  a  certain  imperative 
determination.  There  was  no  one  but  Valerie  to  hear  besides 
the  lady,  who  had  spoken  in  a  tone  of  confidence. 

"  Oh,  she  just  gave  me  an  outline,  you  know.  How  she 
takes  one-third,  and  you  two.  It  is  something  to  be  the 
greatest  heiress  in  London,  Nougat,  as  Val  so  naively  says!  " 

"  Don't  you  like  being  rich.  Sceptre  ?  "  coaxed  Valerie,  her 
quick  sense  still  feeling  the  ominous  tightening  of  that  grasp 
upon  her.  "  I  only  wish  I  had  two  millions  in  my  own 
right !  " 

"  You  talked  to  my  mother — did  she  tell  you  that  ?  Did 
she  say  so  lately  ?  "  asked  Patricia,  her  tone  crystallising  into 
a  hardness  that  made  it  almost  like  Lady  Vera's.  She  still 
spoke  over  the  child's  head  to  the  woman  who  had  addressed 
her,  but  now  one  or  two  other  people  were  within  idle  hearing. 

"  That  you  inherit  two  millions  ?  Yes,  she  told  be  so  yester- 
day.    Surely  you  know  that  yourself  ?  " 

"  My  mother  told  you  yesterday  that  I  should  inherit  it  ? 
That  I  was  the  heiress  to  Mr.  Mornington's  money  ?  " 

The  little  crowd  about  her  seemed  suddenly  stricken  into 
a  puzzled  silence.  They  drew  nearer,  and  some  even  turned 
from  other  groups  and  looked  at  her  as  if  the  subtle  disturb- 
ance of  the  atmosphere  reached  them.  Patrica  released 
herself  from  Valerie,  rose  up  from  her  seat,  and  looked 
straight  at  the  lady  who  had  practically  congratulated  her. 

"You  learned  this  from  my  mother  herself?" 

Her  informant  faltered,  as  if  the  girl's  face  confused  or 
frightened  her.  She  said  afterwards  that  it  was  like  facing 
an  angry  man.  The  masculine  side  of  Patricia  that  had 
gained  her  Valerie's  repeated  name  of  "  Sceptre  " — "  the 
male  mare  " — had  never  been  more  to  the  fore  than  now. 


346  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

There  was  no  feminine  softness  in  her,  nothing  but  a  rising, 
raging  purpose. 

"  My  dear,  I  hope  I  have  said  nothing  indiscreet !  It  was 
that  tiresome  little  Val  who  began  it,"  she  said,  meanly  throw- 
ing the  blame  on  to  the  child,  who  stood,  really  frightened 
now,  at  Patricia's  side.  "  It  was  Vee,  herself,  who  told  me 
most  of  what  I  know — as  to  the  amount  of  the  money,  I 
think  I  heard  that  from  Constance  Varley." 

"  Lady  Varley,  too  !     Where  is  she  ?  " 

The  darkening  brown  eyes  swept  space  for  the  lady  in 
question,  and  found  her,  the  central  figure  of  the  room,  talk- 
ing to  Lord  Harbinger  and  Editha  Blais  Heron.  It  was  not 
difficult  to  see  Lady  Varley,  for  her  proportions  were  only 
second  to  those  of  the  Duchess  of  London.  She  was,  in 
fact,  the  identical  lady  of  whom  the  Duke  had  remarked  to 
Patricia  at  their  first  meeting,  that  she  was  a  "cottage." 
Patricia  turned  swiftly  to  the  Blais  parasite  to  whom  she  had 
been  speaking,  and  drew  her  with  her  as  if  by  the  force  o^ 
her  gaze. 

"  I  am  going  to  speak  to  Lady  Varley.  Will  you  please 
come  with  me — I  want  you  to  hear  also." 

She  led  the  way  through  the  familiar  pillars  to  the  spot 
where  Lady  Varley  was  chatting  to  those  around  her,  and  as 
she  went  people  closed  in  and  followed  her,  as  if  conscious  of 
a  crisis.  The  talk  died  down  again,  until  the  hush  was 
plainly  broken  by  Lady  Vera's  laugh,  but  no  other  sound 
supported  it.  Then  Patricia  had  reached  her  goal,  and 
stopped,  looking  down  on  Lady  Varley  than  whom  she  was 
very  much  taller. 

"Lady  Varley,"  she  said,  in  those  hardened  tones  of  her 
\?oice  that  it  was  not  possible  to  mistake.  "I  find  that  you 
are  under  the  impression  that  I  am  inheriting  Mr.  Morning- 
ton's  money.  I  thought  that  my  mother  would  have  ex- 
plained to  you  that  this  is  not  so — could  not  be  so,  under  the 
circumstances.  As  she  has  not  done  so,  apparently,  I  should 
like  to  take  this  opportunity  before  you  all  to  announce  that 
I  cannot  claim  one  penny  of  that  fortune.  I  have  my  god- 
mother's money,  left  to  me  by  name.  Mr.  Mornington  did 
not  leave  anything  to  me,  and  I  cannot  touch  what  he  left 
unbequeathed,  nor  shall  I  ever  be  able  to  do  so." 

Through  the  bewilderment  on  Lady  Varley's  face  she  was 
conscious  of  others   pressing   nearer,  of   the  eagerness  and 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  347 

excitement  to  hear  what  she  was  saying,  of  everyone  closing 
in  on  her ;  and  across  them  all  of  her  mother's  face.   ... 

"  But,  my  dear  Nougat,  you  inherit  exactly  as  your  mother 
does,"  said  Lady  Varley  sharply,  in  her  startled  discomfort 
"  When  a  man  dies  intestate  his  money  goes  to  his  wife  and 
children — in  this  case  you  take  two-thirds  as  the  only 
daughter." 

"  I  am  not  Mr.  Mornington's  daughter,"  said  the  cruel, 
deliberate  voice,  without  faltering.  "  Most  of  you — probably 
every  one  of  you — know  that,  or  have  heard  a  rumour  of  it 
I  only  knew  it  a  few  weeks  ago.  I  told  my  mother  then  that 
morally  and  legally  I  could  not  inherit  the  money  of  the  man 
she  had  married,  and  I  left  her  to  explain  the  situation  as  she 
thought  best.  It  seems  that  she  has  not  done  so.  I  want 
you  all  to  understand  that  Mr.  Mornington,  in  declining  to 
acknowledge  me,  declined  tacitly  to  lie  about  my  birth,  and 
that  I  consider  myself  under  the  same  obligation  not  to 
continue  the  plausible  deception  under  which  I  have  lived 
hitherto." 

There  came  a  short,  hard,  bitter  cry,  breaking  the  sinister 
drift  of  the  girl's  slow  speech — "  Nougat !  "  Lady  Vera's 
voice  was  a  fury  of  entreaty  and  passion  and  protest.  There 
was  a  murmur  round  the  central  group — Patricia  herself  and 
Lady  Varley,  flanked  by  Bobby  Harbinger  and  Editha  Blais 
Heron — "  Disgraceful !  "  "  She  must  be  out  of  her  mind  !  '' 
"  Her  own  father  and  mother !  " — Before  she  could  answer  the 
exclamations  Lady  Varley  was  speaking  gravely. 

"  Nougat,  this  is  a  very  terrible  thing  that  you  are  saying 
Vou  cannot  have  thought  that  you  are  accusing  your  mother — " 

For  the  first  time  Patricia  turned  on  her  with  a  spark  of 
resentment  in  the  horrible  stillness  of  her  white  face.  "  You 
are  mistaken,"  she  said  coldly.  "I  have  fully  calculated  the 
fact  that  I  am  attacking  my  mother,  and  known  what  people 
would  say  of  it.  It  is  just  because  sentiment  stands  between 
women  and  justice  that  they  dare  to  be  false  to  their  marriage 
vows.  For  a  sentiment — the  sentiment  of  a  name — men  will 
not  go  into  the  Divorce  Court  or  separate  from  their  wives. 
For  a  sentiment  the  children  who  know  themselves  illegiti- 
mate will  not  acknowledge  it,  not  only  for  self-interest,  but 
because  the  woman  who  ought  to  pay  is  their  mother.  And 
so  this  thing  becomes  daily  more  possible,  and  though  there 
is  a  certain  risk,  an  unscrupulous  woman  can  calculate  on  the 


348  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

two  most  honoured  ties  that  she  dishonours,  to  screen  her — 
she  is  wife  and  mother.  It  is  a  proof  of  the  moral  code  of 
this  social  world  that  you  all  think  I  am  mad  because  I  am 
honest.  I  will  not  take  one  penny  of  the  money  which  1 
cannot  inherit  as  Mr.  Mornington's  daughter,  and  if  there  is 
an  attempt  to  force  me,  I  will  seek  for  proof  of  what  I  say — 
the  legal  proof  that  will  stand  in  a  court  of  law — and  make 
this  statement  to  a  wider  public  than  I  have  done  to-day." 

There  was  the  silence  of  the  absolutely  unprecedented. 
No  tradition  existed  for  such  a  case  as  this,  and  even  protest 
seemed  to  have  been  stricken  mute.  Then  there  was  the 
diversion  of  action,  for  Caryl  Lexiter  suddenly  swung  forward 
out  of  the  background  where  he  stood,  and  seized  Vera  Morn- 
ington  by  the  arms.  He  had  seen  her  gather  her  forces 
together  and  turn  blindly  towards  the  spot  where  her  daughter 
stood,  with  an  impulse  of  the  old  undisciplined  race  from 
which  she  sprung.  He  had  no  fear  for  Patricia — who  could 
fear  for  that  terrible  relentless  face  and  splendid  physique? 
— but  for  her  own  sake  he  caught  the  poor  maddened  woman 
back  and  held  her,  raving  and  swearing  with  unconscious 
passion,  until,  with  a  choking  movement,  she  tried  to  get  her 
hand  to  her  throat,  reeled  heavily  and  slipped  through  his 
arms  to  the  floor. 

It  was  an  ugly  scene.  The  men  laid  her  down  there,  be- 
tween the  great  white  pillars,  and  one  of  the  women — Lady 
D'Aulnoy,  angel  of  mercy — loosened  her  gown,  and  ruthlessly 
cut  the  tight  clothes  beneath.  The  group  round  Patricia 
looked  at  her  with  a  kind  of  horror  and  fear,  but  no  one 
spoke  to  her  again.  She  turned  from  them  as  if  already  they 
had  passed  out  of  her  life,  and  walked  quietly  through  the 
shrinking,  whispering  crowd,  past  the  prostrate  figure  on  the 
ground — a  long  black  body  with  a  gash  of  white  linen  at  the 
breast,  and  false  reddened  hair  above  the  ghastly  face — and 
so  out  of  the  room.  No  one  followed  her.  She  had  been 
conscious  of  Chiffon's  frightened  face,  as  if  she  saw  it  for  the 
last  time,  but  of  hardly  anyone  else,  and  she  felt  that  as  they 
passed  from  her  actual  sight  all  these  people  passed  also  out 
of  her  existence.  She  had  outraged  the  tenets  of  a  Society 
of  which  she  seemed,  even  to  herself,  an  abortion — a  monster 
created  by  traditional  vice,  which  had  grown  up  to  curse  the 
perpetrators.  Several  of  the  women  present,  remembering 
Patricia's  eyes  during  her  denunciation,  shuddered  a  little. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  349 

It  was  impossible  that  a  daughter  could  denounce  and 
betray  her  mother ;  it  made  the  whole  sorry  scheme  of  things 
unstable.  But  what  was  this  to  which  they  had  been  listen- 
ing? And  if  one  could  do  such  things  in  the  green  leaf, 
what  should  be  done  in  the  dry ! 


350 


CHAPTER   XXV. 


Look  up 

Into  God's  gracious  canopy  of  leaves 

Thrilled  through  with  golden  touches  of  the  sun  ! 

This  is  a  fairer  tent  spread  over  us 

Than  cloth  o'  gold  and  rich  embroidery,  — 


A  Court  is  bui  a  poor  burlesque  of  Heaven — 
Angels,  not  we,  have  right  to  cloth  o'  gold. 
Let  us  be  Man  and  Woman  on  this  Earth    " 

King  Cophettia. 

Gerald  Vaughan  came  out  of  Ashingham  quickly,  with  alert 
hard  eyes  that  were  already  bent  on  the  horizoti.  He  was 
down  from  business  early,  after  a  week's  rush  that  made  his 
nerves  raw,  and  "  damn  "  the  easiest  and  most  natural  word 
in  his  vocabulary.  It  was  wise,  he  knew,  to  take  a  holiday 
and  to  get  out  into  the  fresh  air,  and  his  flying  steps  were  set 
towards  the  bicycle  shed.  But  autumn  was  doing  her  work 
in  the  garden  at  Ashingham,  the  nasturtiums  that  July  had 
brought  to  their  glory  were  being  thinned  and  ruined  by 
October,  and  lay  in  a  draggled  tangle  across  his  path — how- 
ever badly  he  wanted  to  get  to  the  bicycle  shed  his  evil  genius 
forced  him  to  stoop  and  clear  away  the  ragged  flowers  before 
he  passed  on,  and  then,  as  he  raised  himself,  a  look  of  some- 
thing like  regret  flashed  into  the  cold  quick  eyes  as  they 
rested  on  the  familiar  scene  before  him.  Vaughan  took  root 
in  the  soil  as  tenaciously  as  his  favourite  plants,  and  man 
cannot  dig  and  sow  and  labour  earnestly  with  the  Mother 
Earth  from  which  he  came  without  growing  to  love  that  patch 
of  it  which  takes  and  rewards  his  labour.     For  eight  yeais 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  351 

now  Vaughan  had  found  health  and  exercise  and  consolation 
for  his  thwarted  instincts  in  the  garden  at  Ashingham,  and  he 
could  hardly  realise  that  he  should  see  it  no  more. 

For  he  was  going  away,  as  he  told  Fate  Leroy  that  he 
thought  he  ought  to  do  and  much  disliked  doing.  The 
"  beastly  excellent  offer  "  in  New  Zealand  was  too  strong  a 
stroke  of  destiny  to  be  resisted,  and  he  had  accepted,  and 
setded  it.  Things  had  run  smoothly  for  Vaughan's  arrange- 
ments, and  he  had  felt  absolute  surprise  at  the  ease  with  which 
he  was  uprooting  himself.  Truth  to  tell,  he  fretted  a  little 
secretly,  and  would  rather  have  been  delayed,  though  not 
finally  prevented.  "  I  am  too  old  a  man  to  enjoy  the  shifting 
of  old  landmarks,"  he  said.  "  I  do  not  know  that  I  like 
England,  but  it  is  an  unknown  chance  that  I  like  New  Zealand 
— and  at  least  I  am  sure  of  something  to  grumble  at  in  the 
place  which  I  know ! "  His  own  humour  laughed  at  himself, 
but  he  felt  the  wrench  of  the  uprooting  none  the  less.  Even 
his  sister  seemed  to  make  things  too  easy,  to  his  injured  mind. 
She  regretted  her  home  and  friends  in  the  prosaic  conven- 
tional manner  that  was  quite  correct  and  exactly  what  might 
have  been  expected  of  a  right-feeling  woman ;  but  there  was 
a  latent  enjoyment  of  expectation  underlying  her  regrets,  and 
a  sense  of  movement  already  impregnating  her,  as  a  traveller. 

"  We  shall  both  be  at  sea  at  the  same  time !  "  was  one  of 
her  satisfied  remarks  to  Vaughan,  and  she  found  something 
novel  and  worth  mentioning  in  this. 

"  I  am  not  a  particularly  good  sailor — and  you  are  a 
wretched  one ! "  he  reminded  her  brutally.  "  It  is  not  a 
matter  of  congratulation,  anyhow." 

"  It  seems  to  me  so  strange ! "  said  Bertha  for  the 
hundredth  time. 

Vaughan  grunted.  Its  lack  of  strangeness  was  the  point 
that  irritated  him  most,  for  things  slid  easily  into  the  new 
groove,  and  already,  not  too  far  ahead  of  him,  he  saw  the 
locked  trunks  and  the  packing  cases,  and  Ashingham  with 
that  air  of  tenantless  quiet  which  is  like  a  dumb  reproach. 
He  had  spent  much  time  fussing  and  adjusting  his  surround- 
ings, until  they  were  dear  to  his  fastidious  sense ;  even  the 
Caudle  Cup  on  the  mantelpiece  of  the  smoking-room  had 
been  a  detail  of  his  scheme  for  background — until  it  was 
broken — and  he  was  secretly  afraid  that  the  next  tenants 
would  paint  the  walls  the  wrong  tone  even  if  they  had  the 


352  AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

sense  to  distemper  them,  and  might  have  an  imchecked  taste 
for  blue  bows. 

"Well,  it's  no  use  worrying,"  he  said  grimly,  kicking  the 
last  nasturtium  into  the  border;  and  then  he  saw  the  post- 
man come  in  at  his  own  gate  with  letters  in  his  hand,  and 
went  on  to  meet  his  destiny.  There  were  three  for  Bertha, 
whose  correspondence,  being  totally  trivial,  was  of  course 
voluminous,  and  one  for  himself,  and  that  one  was  from  Fate 
Leroy.  The  postman  went  on  with  Miss  Vaughan's  letters 
to  the  house,  but  Vaughan  took  his  own. 

He  stood  still  amongst  the  ruined  nasturtiums  and  the 
autumn  asters,  already  crisped  with  October  frosts,  and 
opened  the  letter  in  Fate's  familiar,  illegible  handwriting. 
It  was  more  than  usually  so,  for  she  had  written  in  a  real 
hurry,  and  had  not  paused  for  her  usual  dainty  thought  or 
any  subtleties  of  expression.  Enclosed  was  a  portion  of  an- 
other letter  in  handwriting  that  Vaughan  did  not  know.  It 
struck  him  afterwards  that  he  had  known  it  so  little  that  it 
had  represented  nothing  to  his  mind  but  the  half  sheet  of  a 
stranger's  letter,  with  no  quickened  interest  on  his  part  to 
make  it  an  important  thing. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  over  to  Sunnington  as  soon  after  you  get 
this  as  possible,  and  to  see  that  everything  is  in  order,"  wrote 
Fate.  "  The  servants  are  already  there,  because  we  shall  be 
back  in  a  few  weeks  and  I  wanted  the  house  put  straight. 
But  I  am  putting  it  at  the  disposal  of  Patricia  Momington, 
whom  you  will  see  from  the  enclosed  must  most  certainly  go 
there  for  the  time  being.  I  have  no  time  to  comment  on  her 
story — I  think  perhaps  that  she  has  done  a  very  terrible 
thing,  and  yet  one's  sympathies  are  with  her  to  a  great  extent, 
and  one  cannot  judge  of  a  state  of  mind  to  which  late  events 
have  driven  her.  Anyhow,  Eldred  and  I  are  agreed  that  our 
house  is  open  to  her,  and  we  are  asking  you  to  be  our  deputy 
to  see  that  she  is  properly  welcomed.  How  strangely  things 
turn  out,  do  they  not?  Patricia,  herself,  has  knocked  down 
at  one  blow  that  great  wall  of  hard  bright  gold  which  you 
fancied  solid  between  you.  I  leave  the  result  to  you — it  is 
too  weighty  a  matter  for  even  the  finger  of  a  friend  to  touch. 
But  I,  being  a  woman,  am  regretful  at  my  own  forbearance, 
for  I  should  dearly  like  to  help  two  people  of  whom  I  am  so 
fond — though  perhaps  in  different  ways.  This,  at  least,  I  may 
say,  that  I  think  you  are  almost  good  enough  for  her  and  she 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  353 

for  you,  and  were  either  of  you  different  I  should  be  jealous 
for  the  other.  At  least  go  over  to  give  Patricia  what  help 
you  can.     She  has  lived  a  lifetime  in  the  last  few  weeks. 

"F.  L." 

In  the  corner  of  the  last  sheet  was  scribbled  a  postscript : 

*'  I  told  the  cook  to  bring  Phlumpie  back  from  Battersea 
— would  you  see  whether  she  has  done  so  ?  " 

Vaughan  opened  the  enclosed  sheet — the  letter  he  had 
thought  a  stranger's — with  a  new  consciousness  in  his  nervous 
fingers.  He  did  not  know  the  handwriting,  but  he  seemed  to 
know  the  expressions  and  the  character  that  shone  through 
the  mere  words.  It  was  only  a  portion  of  the  explanation 
that  Patricia  had  written  to  Fate  when  she  asked  for  a  refuge 
at  Sunnington,  but  it  told  Vaughan  the  gist  of  the  matter. 
There  was  no  visible  alteration  in  him  when  he  folded  both 
letters  carefully  and  put  them  into  his  pocket,  but  he  felt  a 
little  upset  and  giddy,  as  if  the  clouds  had  suddenly  reversed 
themselves  and  come  near  enough  for  him  to  walk  upon  them 
instead  of  the  solid  earth.  He  continued  his  interrupted 
progress  to  the  bicycle  shed,  got  out  his  machine,  and  wheeled 
it  out  of  the  gate,  all  quietly  enough.  The  next  moment  he 
was  flying  swiftly  and  steadily  along  the  well-known  way  to 
Sunnington  at  sixteen  miles  an  hour. 

He  did  not  know  what  he  should  find  there,  or  exactly 
what  he  was  going  to  do.  Our  most  serious  decisions  are 
rarely  the  result  of  deliberate  intention.  As  the  Leroys'  re- 
presentative, Vaughan  could  go  to  their  house  and  meet 
Patricia,  without  committing  himself  further  even  in  his  own 
mind.  So  much  depended  on  her  that  it  seemed  to  him  his 
own  will  was  in  abeyance.  Their  acquaintance  looked  to  his 
mental  vision  at  one  moment  horribly  inadequate  to  the  mere 
conception  of  something  nearer,  even  in  his  own  mind — at 
the  next  it  seemed  so  full  of  significance  during  those  last 
weeks  of  Eldred's  illness  that  formalities  were  superfluous. 
It  depended  on  the  way  in  which  she  chose  to  regard  it. 

At  the  historical  gate  where  they  had  said  good-bye,  he 
dismounted  and  wheeled  his  bicycle  up  the  gravel  path,  con- 
scious for  the  first  time  that  he  had  ridden  fast  and  was  hot. 
He  pushed  his  cap  back  and  wiped  his  forehead  before  he 
rang  the  bell,  wondering  fretfully  if  he  looked  like  a  vulgar 
"  scorcher "  or  a  summer  tourist.     The  door  was  opened  by 

23 


354  AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

Fate's  own  parlourmaid,  who  smiled  a  welcome  under  her 
snowy  frills,  and  the  aspect  of  the  little  house  was  again  the 
one  that  Vaughan  so  bitterly  appreciated.  He  had  passed 
it  several  times  while  his  friends  were  away,  and  disliked  the 
blank  windows  and  the  quiet,  closed  air  of  the  place.  Now 
there  was  a  glimpse  of  silver  on  the  sideboard  through  the 
open  dining-room  door,  of  fresh  curtains  at  the  windows,  and 
of  a  small  fire — of  course,  for  the  days  were  really  frosty,  and 
this  was  Patricia's  first  English  winter. 

"  Is  Miss  Mornington  here?"  he  said.  "  I  am  glad  things 
are  all  in  order  again,  Reynolds." 

"  Yes,  sir.  Miss  Mornington  came  yesterday.  Shall  I  tell 
her  you  are  here  ?  " 

"  Is  she  upstairs  ?     Does  she  not  want  to  see  visitors  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  sir.  She  is  in  the  drawing-room.  I  was  just  going 
to  take  in  her  tea.  She  gave  me  no  orders  about  anyone  who 
called." 

It  did  not  occur  to  Vaughan  that,  secure  in  her  loneliness, 
Patricia  had  taken  no  precautions  about  her  neighbours. 
Not  until  the  drawing-room  door  was  open  and  Reynolds  had 
said,  "  Mr.  Vaughan,  miss !  "  did  the  movement  of  the  woman 
standing  in  the  window  suggest  to  him  that  she  would  fain 
have  taken  flight  if  it  had  not  been  too  late.  Patricia  had 
been  looking  out  over  the  ferns  to  the  little  winding  path 
through  the  shrubbery,  and  the  glimpse  of  the  grass  which 
was  thickly  strewn  with  leaves,  but  as  she  turned  he  saw  her 
face. 

Somehow  he  had  not  expected  her  to  be  changed.  He  had 
still  fancied  the  beautiful  grave  Princess  who  had  looked  at 
him  over  the  hard  bright  wall  of  gold  with  contemplative 
eyes.  But  at  sight  of  the  Patricia  who  stood  gazing  at  him 
across  the  room,  he  forgot  his  old  fancy  and  knew  nothing 
but  that  he  saw  a  woman  who  had  gone  through  the  acme  of 
suffering.  It  was  not  that  the  outlines  of  the  face  were  less 
rounded,  or  the  bright  brown  hair  grown  grey,  or  the  large 
eyes  less  softly  bright.  She  was  very  pale,  it  is  true,  but  it 
was  not  that  that  had  changed  her,  either.  He  felt  as  if  no 
tenderness  or  consideration  could  quite  atone  to  her  for  having 
fought  some  terrible  battle  with  no  man  near  to  assist  her, 
and  all  his  manhood  rose  to  the  unconscious  demand  her 
altered  look  made  upon  it. 

"  Mrs.  Leroy  wrote  to  me,"  he  said,  crossing  the  room  and 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  355 

looking  down  on  the  coils  of  her  chestnut  hair.  "  Would  you 
rather  that  I  went  away  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Leroy  told  you — about  me  ?  "  she  questioned  in  a 
quiet  level  tone  and  without  looking  up. 

"  All  that  it  was  necessary  to  tell." 

"  Oh !  I  do  not  mind ! "  said  Patricia  a  little  wearily. 
"  When  you  have  lost  your  name  and  your  place  in  the  world, 
the  mere  fact  of  people  knowing  it  seems  a  minor  detail." 

"  You  have  not  really  lost  either,"  he  said  emphatically — 
the  little  croak  in  his  voice  brought  back  the  Land  of  Beulah 
and  her  sojourn  there.  She  felt  as  if  a  century  lay  between 
that  time  and  this  day,  when  he  met  her  discrowned  and  a 
pariah  from  her  kind.  "  The  man  who  flung  the  cloak  of  his 
name  over  you  as  a  little  helpless  child  would  not  intentionally 
have  stripped  you  of  it  now.  And  as  to  your  place  in  the 
world,  that  is  as,  and  where,  you  choose  to  make  it,"  he  said. 

But  she  turned  her  face  from  him  despondently.  "  I  dare- 
say," she  replied.  "  Only  I  do  not  seem  to  have  an  inch  of 
fight  left  in  me.  I  don't  doubt  that  I  shall  get  my  grip  on 
life  again  some  day.  I  am  so  full  of  vitality  that  human 
nature  will  force  me  back  into  taking  an  interest  even  in  my- 
self, I  know.     At  present  I  am  too  tired." 

His  voice  softened  dangerously,  though  his  eyes  were  more 
under  control.  "  I  am  glad,  at  least,  that  you  have  come  back 
to  us,  to  let  us  rest  you,"  he  said.  "  Do  you  know  that  I  had 
almost  made  up  my  mind  that  I  should  never  see  you  again  ?  " 

She  looked  up,  startled  already  out  of  her  stupor  of  in- 
difference. He  was  standing  very  close  to  her,  not  three 
inches  between  their  respective  shoulders,  and  as  if  a  little 
overcome  with  his  personality  she  moved  a  trifle  away  from 
him  as  she  asked  why. 

"Because  my  life  is  altering  also,"  he  said,  with  a  little 
glint  in  his  eyes  that  told  that  he  recognised  her  embarrass- 
ment and  was  not  altogether  displeased  by  it.  "  Come  and 
sit  down,  and  have  tea  with  me,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about 
it.  I  hare  not  had  anyone  sympathetic  to  talk  to  since  " — he 
checked  himself,  some  thought>  of  Fate  floating  up  across  his 
mind  as  this  other  woman  sat  down  at  her  tea-table  and  began 
to  pour  out  his  tea  for  him.  With  all  loyalty  to  the  present, 
he  did  not  want  to  linger  on  the  indefinite  past,  which,  per- 
haps, had  been  the  more  alluring  for  its  very  incompleteness. 

"  It  is  odd  how  you  and  I  have  been  suddenly  wrenched 

23* 


356  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

out  of  our  grooves,"  he  said.  "  We  both  thought  we  should 
go  on  in  the  inevitable  sequence  of  our  lives,  didn't  we  ? — in- 
deed, as  far  as  one  can  see  the  future,  ours  seemed  to  be 
plain  to  our  eyes.  And  now  here  we  are,  both  in  totally  new 
circumstances,  cut  off  from  old  associations  and  the  destiny 
of  which  we  were  so  sure." 

"  You  also  ?    What  has  happened  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  had  a  very  excellent  offer  from  a  firm  of  electrical 
engineers,  in  New  Zealand  of  all  places  in  the  world,  and  I 
am  not  justified  in  refusing  it  My  sister  wants  to  travel  with 
a  long-suffering  friend,  so  there  is  not  even  the  home-tie  to 
keep  me,  and  I  am  growing  old  and  must  think  of  making 
a  competence  for  my  latter  end.  You  see  that  Providence 
has  determined  that  my  feeble  struggles  to  remain  in  England 
shall  have  no  excuse.  So  I  am  rather  surprised  to  find  my- 
self going  out  to  begin  life  afresh." 

"Soon?" 

"  At  the  New  Year," 

"  Ah !  "  she  said,  and  seemed  for  the  minute  to  fall  into  a 
deep  study  of  the  carpet.  "  I  congratulate  you  most  heartily," 
she  said  at  last  in  an  inscrutable  tone.  "  I  think  I  can  imagine 
nothing  more  desirable  just  now  than  to  begin  a  New  Year 
by  leaving  all  the  old  life  behind  me  and  starting  fresh  in  a 
fresh  country." 

"  Unfortunately,  some  old  associations  have  a  painful  way 
of  having  been  pleasant,"  he  said  with  his  wry  smile.  "  As 
an  instance,  I  found  my  friendship  with  you  this  summer 
extremely  desirable — then  I  lost  sight  of  you,  and  just  as  I 
see  a  chance  of  renewing  it,  Fortune  turns  me  out  of  the  road 
that  leads  the  way  of  my  desire.  I  can  hardly  take  your 
friendship  with  me  to  New  Zealand,  can  I  ? — Can  I  ?  "  he 
added  with  sudden  insistence. 

"  Why  not  ? "  she  asked  calmly,  but  she  was  looking  with 
keen  interest  into  the  teapot  as  she  spoke,  as  though  her  whole 
soul  were  bound  up  in  the  exact  quantity  of  water  to  add  to 
the  over-brewed  tea. 

"  It  is  some  ten  thousand  miles  away !  " 

"  There  are  always  letters !  " 

"  Would  you  write  to  me  ?  Even  letters  are  very  unsatis- 
factory," he  said  discontentedly.  "When  you  miss  the  in- 
tonation of  a  voice,  and  want  to  watch  for  an  expression,  the 
mere  black  and  white  scrawl  seems  so  inadequate." 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  357 

"Really,  Mr.  Vaughan,  1  do  not  scrawl!  I  write  quite 
nicely." 

"  I  never  said  you  did  not,  but  I  deny  that  you  can  write  as 
nicely  as  you  look  and  speak  !  I  am  a  person  who  craves  for 
the  actual  presence." 

There  was  a  startled  silence,  while  Patricia  hoped  wildly 
that  though  her  heart  beat  so  loudly  in  her  own  ears  no  hint 
of  such  a  thing  was  patent  to  hira.  He  had  not  made  his 
last  speech  with  intention;  it  Avas  one  of  those  sentences 
which  strike  us  dumb  with  truth  and  are  so  naked  of  pretence 
that  we  feel  ashamed.  He  would  indeed  crave  for  her  actual 
presence — he  had  done  so  already ;  but  even  to  guess  at  such 
a  thing  made  her  feel  breathless.  He  seemed  a  stranger  sud- 
denly, this  broad-shouldered  man  with  the  lean  face  and  a 
haunting  voice  that  she  had  so  relentlessly  remembered. 
What  right  had  a  stranger  to  demand  her  actual  presence 
near  him  ? 

And  then,  to  Patricia's  dismay,  she  felt  that  she  was  going 
to  blush.  She  knew,  with  despair,  that  his  eyes  were  fixed 
on  her  face,  and  yet  the  blood  was  rising  slowly  and  inevit- 
ably over  the  betraying  pallor  of  her  skin.  "I  can't  and  I 
won't ! "  she  said  to  herself,  but  she  did  in  spite  of  will-power 
and  training,  the  burning  acknowledgment  of  Masculine  and 
Feminine  rushing  up  to  her  forehead  like  a  danger-signal, 
and  triumphing  over  the  pretence  of  civilisation.  For  a  man 
and  woman  sitting  on  either  side  of  a  tea-table,  without  legal 
ties,  are  tacitly  robbed  of  sex,  and  the  tell-tale  blood  sug- 
gested bodies  beneath  the  decency  of  clothes.  Eve  ex- 
perienced the  first  blush  as  she  sewed  her  fig  leaves,  and  read 
a  more  intimate  knowledge  of  herself  in  Adam's  eyes  even 
when  she  had  put  them  on.  Patricia  had  every  right  to  eat 
buns  and  bread  and  butter  in  company  with  Vaughan;  but 
she  had  no  right  to  blush. 

For  a  minute  his  eyes  gloated  rather  cruelly  on  the  proof 
of  his  power  over  her,  then,  being  a  gentleman,  he  turned 
away  and  appeared  not  to  have  seen. 

"  By  the  way,  did  the  cook  fetch  Phlumpie  ?  "  he  asked  in 
his  usual  tone.  "Fate  told  me  I  was  to  be  sure  to  ask.  But 
I  utterly  decline  to  take  a  basket  to  Battersea  and  bring  him 
back,  even  if  she  did  not !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is  all  right — he  was  here  when  I  arrived.  I 
must  give  him  his  milk,"  said  Patricia  with  obvious  relief, 


358  AS   YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

and  seizing  the  excuse  she  walked  away  from  him  to  the  open 
door  to  recover  herself.  He  heard  her  voice  gently  calling 
the  cat,  and  smiled  a  little  to  himself. 

"  Not  to-day,"  he  said.  "  I  can  afford  to  wait  a  little. 
Next  week,  I  think." 

The  appearance  of  Phlumpie  was  like  a  third  person  in  the 
room,  and  seemed  to  reassure  Patricia.  She  took  him  on 
her  knee,  regardless  of  hairs,  and  gave  him  his  milk,  the 
emphasis  of  his  gratitude  making  even  his  purr  less  colourless 
than  usual.  (Fate  said  that  he  had  a  white  purr  and  a  white 
mew,  to  match  his  snowy  fur.)  He  blinked  at  Vaughan  with 
his  pale  green  eyes,  put  his  paws  round  Patricia's  waist,  and 
went  to  sleep.  Vaughan  smiled  as  one  who  could  afford  it ; 
he  did  not  object  to  Phlumpie  as  a  chaperon,  and  the  Leroys 
were  not  returning  for  another  fortnight  at  least. 

He  did  not  hesitate  from  any  fear  of  convention  to  ride 
over  to  Sunnington  every  day.  Life  was  too  important  at 
this  stage  of  it  to  be  trifled  with,  and  he  wanted  to  wear  the 
newness  off  his  reacquaintance  with  Patricia  before  he  startled 
her  by  the  suggestion  that  they  should  spend  their  lives  to- 
gether. He  even  decided  on  the  day  and  hour  on  which  he 
should  ask  her  to  marry  him,  and  then,  as  happens  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten.  he  never  actually  proposed  to  her  at  all. 
Very  few  men  say  baldly  to  the  woman  they  love,  "  Will  you 
marrj'  me  ? "  It  is  a  necessan,'  business  question  where  no 
love  exists,  but  the  man  and  woman  who  have  reached  the 
point  of  hoping  for  such  a  development,  from  tenderer  reasons, 
find  such  expressions  superfluous  and  horribly  inadequate. 
What  happened  in  Vaughan's  case  was  that  he  came  in  un- 
announced at  his  usual  hour,  the  afternoon  before  he  meant 
to  speak,  and  found  Patricia  with  a  watering-pot  in  her  hands, 
watering  the  ferns  in  the  window.  She  put  down  the  watering- 
pot  to  give  him  her  hand,  and  even  made  a  trivial  remark  to 
the  effect  that  the  servants  neglected  the  plants ;  and  sud- 
denly, even  while  their  eyes  met,  he  had  laid  his  arm  across 
her  shoulders  and  stooped  his  face  to  hers,  and  was  the  first 
man — though  he  did  not  know  it — who  had  kissed  her  on 
the  mouth  since  she  was  a  child.  And  by  the  time  that  the 
breathless  lips  had  parted,  words  seemed  a  little  superfluous. 

"  Don't !  "  Patricia  said  at  last,  pushing  him  away  gently. 

"  You  have  yet  to  learn  that  I  am  a  very  material  person !  " 
Vaughan  admitted,  moving  as  little  as  possible. 


AS   VE   HAVE   SOWN.  359 

**  I  would  not  have  believed  it  of  you  I  " 

"  If  you  think  a  further  demonstration  would  make  it  any 
easier  of  comprehension " 

"  Oh,  no,  thank  you !  "  she  said  laughing.  "  And  please 
take  your  arm  away — I  am  so  afraid  of  one  of  the  servants 
coming  in  suddenly  !  " 

"  What  on  earth  does  it  matter  if  they  do  ?  "  he  demanded 
with  the  argumentative  tone  developing  in  his  voice. 

"I  have  a  mild  objection  to  looking  foolish.  And  besides, 
I  feel  a  little  in  the  wrong,  staying  as  I  am  on  sufferance  in 
someone  else's  house." 

"  Well,  of  course,  if  that  is  your  feeling,  the  only  thing  left 
me  to  do  is  to  take  a  house  at  once  for  the  special  purpose 
of  making  love  to  you  in  it !  But  as  we  cannot  well  be 
married  for  the  next  forty-eight  hours,  even  with  all  expedi- 
tion— Did  you  start?" 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  it — of  you — quite  so  definitely !  " 

"  I  am  going  to  New  Zealand  in  a  few  months,  Patricia ! 
Would  you  rather  I  went  alone,  to  spy  out  the  land  ?  " 

She  had  turned  her  face  from  him  with  a  mute  protest 
against  his  insistent  lips,  and  he  could  see  nothing  but  the 
curve  of  one  smooth  cheek,  the  setting  of  her  little  flat  ear, 
and  the  wave  of  her  chestnut  hair  above  it  where  it  was  swept 
up  into  the  coil.  But  he  knew  exactly  the  depth  of  gravity  in 
her  eyes,  and  he  confessed  to  himself  that  he  could  not  judge 
of  her  decision. 

It  came  by  her  turning  to  him  suddenly,  with  a  passion 
and  grief  that  made  him  realise  in  what  deep  waters  she  had 
lately  struggled,  for  it  was  as  the  wrack  of  the  storm. 

"  No,  you  shall  not  go  alone,"  she  answered.  "  Take  me 
with  you,  out  of  the  Old  World  and  its  traditional  sins,  to  a 
new  one  where  I  can  at  least  keep  the  illusion  that  marriage 
is  not  a  farce,  and  that  men  and  women  know  how  to  keep 
faith.  At  present  the  Colonies  do  not  include  vice  in  a 
woman's  education,  do  they  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer  the  embittered  question,  passing  it  by 
with  a  man's  broader  tolerance,  as  the  result  of  a  momentary 
jar  and  shock  such  as  few  women  have  to  bear.  Instead  of 
answering,  he  kissed  the  hurt  brown  eyes  and  the  sad  lips, 
and  Patricia  was  comforted. 

"  I  have  very  little  to  bring  you,  Gerald,"  she  whispered. 
"  I  have  no  fortune  and  no  name,  and  I  have  done  a  thing 


36o  AS  YE   HAVE  SOWN. 

that  almost  all  the  world  would  condemn,  in  daring  to 
denounce  my  mother." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  argue  that  point  with  you,  because  it 
is  done,"  he  said.  "  Whether  you  were  quite  right,  or  wise, 
it  is  useless  to  decide  now,  isn't  it?  But  you  may  feel  sure, 
at  least,  that  my  sympathies  are  entirely  with  you  in  your 
essential  aim,  whatever  method  you  used  to  gain  it.  And  I 
give  you  all  honour  and  respect,  and,  before  all  things,  love. 
Come  with  me  and  begin  the  new  life  in  the  New  Year. 
Some  day  I  will  bring  you  back  to  England,  and  it  shall  not 
look  the  same  to  you,  as  in  the  world  you  have  known — which 
is  but  a  small  section  even  of  society,  after  all.  You  will  find 
that  there  is  a  great  majority,  which  we  call  the  Middle  Class, 
and  which  will  show  you  all  sides  of  life — you  may  find  just 
as  much  vice  and  folly  amongst  it  as  you  have  amongst  the 
minority;  but  on  the  whole  the  good  predominates,  and  we, 
being  healthy  of  mind  and  body,  will  not  willingly  know  of  the 
bad.  Life  is  exactly  what  one  makes  it,  though  the  making 
may  be  an  effort  of  violence.  Let  us  live  and  love  rationally, 
my  darling,  and  the  curse  promised  to  the  third  and  fourth 
generation  will  pass  us  by." 

"  Amen  !  "  she  answered. 


N 


36 1 


EPILOGUE. 

"  Inifashionable  London 

This  May  or  next  year's  May, 
They  go  the  tinsel  round  of  life 

The  same  old  weary  way. 
The  hothouse  blooms  of  womenkind 

Rose -red  or  passion- pale, 
The  men  whose  future  lies  behind, 
They  all  are  straws  upon  the  wind — 

But  when  shall  London  fail  ?  " 

The  Burden  of  London. 

On  a  certain  sunny  day  at  the  beginning  of  the  Season,  the 
Honourable  Caryl  Lexiter  was  strolling  up  Piccadilly.  He 
walked  slowly,  partly  because  he  had  recently  had  a  twinge 
of  the  gout,  which  was  as  much  an  inheritance  to  Queens- 
leigh  as  in  Lord  Lowndes'  family,  and  partly  because  he  was 
by  instinct  an  idler.  As  he  passed  the  Cavalry  Club  a  mem- 
ber ran  down  the  steps,  and,  catching  sight  of  the  remarkable 
figure,  and  the  grey  head,  he  quickened  his  stride  and  came 
abreast  with  it.     They  walked  as  far  as  Bond  Street,  chatting. 

"  Saw  Harbinger  last  night,"  said  the  soldier,  "  and  told 
him  not  to  put  his  money  on  Golightly.  The  colt  shapes 
well,  but  he  won't  be  safe  business  until  next  year — can't  stay 
the  Epsom  course.     Bobby  looks  awfully  glum  ! " 

"  I  was  there  yesterday,"  said  Lexiter  carelessly,  after  an 
imperceptible  thought.  "  Bobby  finds  life  *  rotten  '  just  now 
It  will  be  'rippin' '  again  when  there  are  birds  to  slay," 

The  soldier  laughed.  "  Heard  about  Blais  Heron  ?  "  he 
said. 

"  Yes,  poor  devil !     What  a  holy  smash  !  " 

"  That  was  Africa — it  has  smashed  a  lot  of  fellows  since 
the  depression.  But  things  look  better  than  they  might. 
He  isn't  to  be  bankrupt — somebody  Lord  Ragby  found  is 


362  AS  YE   HAVE   SOWN. 

putting  him  into  the  new  motor  firm  as  agent.  They  say  he 
goes  out  to  dinner  now  with  a  prospectus  up  his  sleeve." 

"  Poor  devil !  "  said  Lexiter  again.  He  knew  more  of  such 
gentlemanly  shifts  than  the  Cavalry  man. 

"A  hell  of  a  life,  I  should  think — what?  "  said  the  soldier. 
"  I'm  goin'  up  Bond  Street— come  ?  " 

"  No,  thanks !  I  know  whither  you  are  bound.  I  can't 
choose  ladies'  hats !  " 

The  younger  man  coloured  through  a  healthy  tan,  and 
turned  up  by  Stewart's.     "  Ta-ta,  then,"  he  said. 

Caryl  crossed  and  looked  into  Scot's,  wondering  whether 
the  shape  of  the  caps  of  that  year  would  suit  him.  He  had 
had  no  occasion  to  buy  one  yet,  but  if  he  went  down  to  the  sea 
for  a  week-end  the  East  Coast  is  windy.  Then  he  strolled 
back  to  Soloman's  and  looked  in  there,  and  a  girl  pinned 
violets  into  his  coat  with  recognition — she  had  done  the  same 
thing  two  days  since,  and  had  told  him,  in  answer  to  his 
sympathetic  question,  that  she  grew  very  tired  with  the  stand- 
ing, and  would  be  off  duty  at  six.  He  did  not,  however,  see 
what  he  had  half  hoped  to  see  (he  had  gone  into  the  shop  on 
the  off  chance) — the  familiar  little  face  of  a  lady  buying 
flowers.  It  was  tiresome,  because  Bobby  was  evidently  sulk- 
ing after  last  night,  and  a  word  outside  the  house  would  have 
been  useful. 

The  crowd  was  thick  in  Piccadilly  as  he  turned  once  more 
and  made  his  way  towards  the  Circus,  but  for  one  face  and 
figure  known  to  Caryl  Lexiter  thirty  passed  him  which  be- 
longed to  an  alien,  outside  world — men  and  women  busy  with 
their  own  lives,  who  bestowed  no  more  than  a  passing  wonder 
on  him.  He  wore  his  clothes  so  like  a  gentleman,  and  his 
face  was  still  so  insouciant  and  handsome  that  it  was  probable 
he  would  never  lack  for  admiration.  And  as  far  as  a  mere 
result  of  breeding  goes — the  careful  breeding  and  training  of 
the  Third  and  Fourth  Generation — the  racehorse  and  Caryl 
Lexiter  both  win  and  deserve  admiration. 

Still  handsome,  still  loved  and  longed  for  by  women,  with 
the  appetite  for  life  fresh  on  his  palate,  if  there  were  a  sting 
in  Caryl  Lexiter's  usual,  leisurely  life  that  Spring  morning, 
it  lay  in  the  fact  that  Vera  Momington  was  back  from  her 
conventional  seclusion  at  Alassio,  and  that  their  names  had 
been  already  coupled  together.  But  Vera,  with  her  three 
millions,    of  which   she  had  taken   undisputed   possession. 


AS   YE   HAVE   SOWN.  363 

knew  herself  a  matrimonial  prize -and  looked  for  younger  men 
to  offer  her  an  equivalent  for  her  wealth.  Lexiter  might  once 
have  had  it  for  the  asking;  but  that  was  ten  years  ago.  He 
wanted  the  money,  and  he  did  not  want  Vera,  but  he  would 
not  have  either  now. 

After  all,  it  would  have  been  a  hard  condition,  too,  to  marry 
Vera  Momington,  he  told  himself,  lifting  his  high  head  in 
the  bright  sunshine  with  the  ease  of  freedom  and  the  content 
of  a  huge,  sleek  animal.  To  take  the  red-haired  woman's 
temper,  her  powder  and  paint,  and  the  distasteful  rechaufi 
of  a  past  passion,  was  a  heavy  tax  upon  the  three  millions. 
She  had  not  even  the  advantage  of  a  dubious  novelty  to  him, 
any  more  than  to  other  men  of  whom  he  knew.  He  thought 
languidly  of  married  life  with  her,  as  a  duty  that  all  the  arts 
and  crafts  of  her  bedchamber  could  not  quicken  into  anticipa- 
tion. No,  life  was  more  pleasurable  for  him  at  fifty  if  free 
to  come  and  go,  to  waste  time  and  energies  on  other  women, 
to  find  himself  still  courted  by  his  neighbour's  wife.  He 
squared  his  broad  shoulders,  smiled  a  little  under  the  soft 
tawny  moustache,  and  looked  down  beneath  drooping  lids 
into  the  eyes  of  a  passing  pretty  girl. 

"  What  a  remarkable  looking  man  !  "  she  said  involuntarily. 

"  Where  ?  "  said  her  chaperon,  as  chaperons  had  ever  been 
with  Lexiter,  a  hint  too  late. 

"  He  has  passed  us.     He  was  so  good  to  look  at !  " 

So  be  this  his  epitaph,  without  harsher  judgment,  for,  as 
he  goes  upon  his  way,  he  is  one  type  of  a  lost  chivalry  to 
which  the  majority  looked  up  in  times  past,  and  of  a  chimera 
which  to-day  we  call  the  Upper  Classes;  well-bred,  well- 
groomed,  well-dressed,  one  glance  out  of  his  masculine  eyes 
enough  to  startle  pretty  youth  into  passing  admiration — so 
he  goes,  as  he  will  always  go  in  London  through  the  Season, 
an  idle  man,  enjoying  the  pleasant  world  he  finds  around  him, 
and  withal  giving  pleasure  in  his  turn  in  that  he  is  "  so  good 
to  look  at ! "  A  type  of  our  worthless  and  our  best — the 
Honourable  Caryl  Lexiter,  strolling  up  Piccadilly. 

THE  END. 


Printed  at  The  Chapel  River  Press,  Kingston,  Surrey. 


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